by Ruth Reid
“This road has been jammed ever since that accident the other day.” The driver looked at Elijah in the rearview mirror. Recognition dawned in his expression. “That’s how you injured your arm and why you have those stitches in your head, ain’t it? You’re one of the passengers.”
“Jah,” Elijah admitted reluctantly. He never liked drawing attention to himself.
“I knew it.” The driver smiled in the rearview mirror at him. “I noticed the bloodstains on your clothes and how you had your pants pinned up the seam.”
And he’d been picked up at the hospital. “Do you think they’ve found the missing passengers and that’s why so many news vans are leaving?”
“My guess is they’re chasing another story. If they found any of them, they’d still be filming.”
Elijah’s excitement withered. He hoped they weren’t leaving because the search had been called off. Would they do that? It wouldn’t be dark for a few more hours, and the sky didn’t look as though a storm was brewing.
The driver stopped the car several yards from where the accident took place. “How long are you going to be here? You want me to wait?”
“Nay, I’m joining the search.” He paid the driver, then slid out from the back seat.
The driver rolled down his window and stuck his hand outside. “Here’s my card. Call me if you need me to come pick you up. Once they look at you all bandaged up, I doubt they’ll let you volunteer.”
“Thank you.” Elijah took the card out of politeness. With no phone he had no means of contacting the man.
He limped down the road, feeling the hard pavement with every step. He managed to slip past a lingering news van and make his way around a row of parked trucks with empty dog pens in the beds of the vehicles. He spotted a tent set up under a stand of pines several feet away and froze as the words of the cab driver replayed in his mind. What if the cab driver was right and the authorities didn’t allow him to stay? Where would he go? As winded as he was now, he wouldn’t get far if he was sent away. He wouldn’t even make it to a pay phone to call the cab driver back— that’s if there were pay phones around here.
It didn’t matter if they turned him away; he wasn’t leaving. He would find Catherine on his own.
Elijah slipped off the arm sling, shoved it under his shirt, then tucked the shirt into his pants. He headed toward the tent and the group of people milling around the area drinking from steaming Styrofoam cups.
A man wearing a bright orange hunter’s coat and matching hat turned in Elijah’s direction and acknowledged him with a nod. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon to you too.” He scanned the small gathering of men and women. “Mei name is Elijah Graber, and I would like to join the group of volunteers searching for the missing accident victims.” Eyed by several in the batch, Elijah straightened his shoulders and tried to mask his pain with a smile.
“Looks like you’ve taken quite a blow to your head recently.” The man looked Elijah over, his line of vision stopping on the safety pins holding his torn pants together, then moving up to meet Elijah head on. “I’ve been down to the bottom of the ravine and it’s a difficult undertaking.”
He’d been down to the bottom once too. “I can do it.”
The man with the orange coat looked at the others standing with him, then back to Elijah. “Do you have dogs?”
“Nay, but I’m a hunter and a gut tracker.”
“See Officer Bennett inside the tent,” the man in the orange coat said. “You’ll need to show your driver’s license in order to sign the volunteer roster.”
Elijah swallowed hard. He didn’t have a driver’s license or any other proof of identity, for that matter. “Has anyone been found yet?”
The man shook his head.
Another man in the group whose downtrodden expression reflected the grave situation said, “It’s beginning to look like the bodies might have gone through the ice, and if that’s the case, the undercurrent would have swept them away.” He took a drink from his cup, then tossed it into the trash can next to the tent. “It’s sad. We might not find them till spring.”
No, God, please . . . say it isn’t so. Elijah’s throat swelled. Catherine did not go through the ice. She didn’t drown. He turned and coughed into his hand, trying to dislodge the lump obstructing his ability to swallow.
One man whistled and three dogs jumped down from the bed of a nearby truck. “I’ll take my team down the east side and work toward the river.” He pulled his knitted hat over his face, covering everything but his eyes, nose, and mouth, then made a hand signal to his eager bloodhounds, and they were off.
Not wanting to waste any more time, Elijah went to the tent, pulled back the tarp, and stepped inside.
The man seated behind the table glanced up. “I’m Officer Bennett. May I help you?”
Elijah moved closer to the table. “I’m here to help with the search.”
“Have a seat.” The officer motioned to an empty chair opposite his.
Elijah eased onto the chair. It felt good to sit. His facial expression must have given his thoughts away, because Officer Bennett’s brows drew together.
“I’m guessing you were a passenger in that accident?”
If he was reading the officer’s expression correctly, he was about to be asked to leave. He couldn’t let that happen. Elijah tilted his head slightly off center and pretended to be confused. “Excuse me?”
“You held your breath every step you took, and you look like you’ve been through battle. Which bus were you on?”
Elijah lowered his head. “Budget Bus.”
Denied volunteer placement on the search team on account of his recent injuries and determined not to let anyone stop him, Elijah ambled toward the road, then when he was sure no one was watching him, he cut through a small stand of trees toward the ravine.
He crossed the guardrail and began easing down the slope.
Elijah’s foot slid on a patch of snow. He grasped a nearby tree limb and hung on long enough to catch his breath. Maneuvering the terrain with his ribs wrapped and a useless arm that should be in a sling was much more difficult than he expected.
“You could puncture your lungs again or rip your stitches open. Infection . . .” The nurse’s warning played in the back of his mind.
Slow and steady. Stay focused. Don’t hurry. If he took the wrong step, he might find himself at the bottom of the forty-foot drop incapacitated with more broken bones. Then he would hope the bloodhounds found him. Although he’d probably be counted as one of the lost.
He climbed down a few more feet. Finding a level spot to rest, he calmed his breathing. His hands were raw and sticky from pine sap. At least the white pine trees’ branches were flexible and forgiving. He didn’t trust the branches of a birch not to snap under his weight, and he’d made the mistake of grasping a wild raspberry bush, and its thorns pierced his hand.
He continued to inch down the steep incline. A sheet of snow moved under his feet, and he fell. Tumbling out of control, he was sliding headfirst, belly on the ground with no use of his injured arm and not finding anything to grab hold of with his free hand.
His chest hit a large rock and stopped him. “Lord!” Pain riveted him to the spot. For a long moment he didn’t move and silently assessed his injuries. A spasm in his rib cage stole his breath. He wouldn’t have long if he punctured his lung again, exactly what Candice had warned him about.
Dogs barking echoed in the distance. The chopping sound of helicopter blades became louder. He couldn’t let them delay their search for survivors working on him.
Elijah clenched his teeth and continued. Wet and shivering, he reached the bottom of the slope, rested a few minutes, then pushed off the ground and lumbered along the edge of the ravine toward the wreckage.
By the time he reached the area where the treetops had been cropped, Elijah’s legs were wobbly and threatening to buckle. Then he glimpsed something reflective shining a few feet away. He limped towar
d the metal object. Drawing closer, he realized it was a panel of the bus. Glass littered the ground. He trudged through a swampy area, finding more remnants of the bus on his way.
The moment he saw what was left of the mangled bus lying on its side, tightness filled his chest and he gasped. The way the front section was crushed, it had probably rolled several times. His eyes brimmed with tears as he gingerly approached the torn metal. The ground turned slushy. Melting snow—no, melting ice. Until now, he’d been so focused on getting to the bus, he hadn’t paid attention to the surrounding cattails dusted with snow, nor had he considered the marshy wetlands where they grow. He’d reached the river, and the bus had landed partly on it.
Elijah stepped gingerly toward the metal structure, acutely listening for sounds of ice cracking.
“The one you have come to find is not here.”
The deep baritone voice startled Elijah. He paused and listened for the voice again but didn’t hear anything. Elijah made his way around the massive heap lying on its side and stopped at the opening. Peering inside, his attention was immediately drawn to the hole in the ice where windows had been blown out and sheet metal curled up. He climbed inside.
His stomach roiled, hearing the lapping sounds of water movement. Counting the number of seats, acid rose to the back of his throat. Catherine had been seated at what looked like the point of impact—where water was now seeping into the cabin.
With every morsel of breath in him, he cried out, “Why, God? Why Catherine? Why nett take me?”
“It isn’t for us to understand the mind of God, child. Some things are only revealed in time.”
Elijah turned and faced the stranger. A ray of sunlight illuminated the older man’s features. His bright red hair and the gold specks swimming around the man’s pupils, in particular, captured Elijah’s attention. He blinked a few times and pushed the tears away from his eyes with his sleeve.
“Don’t look for her here. She’s gone, Elijah.”
How does he know mei name? He’s a volunteer. Someone from the top probably saw him go down the ravine and radioed the others.
“It isn’t safe to be here,” the man said. “The ice is already fractured.”
“I’m nett ready to leave.” Elijah turned his back to the redheaded stranger. He stared hopelessly at the hole, his eyes burning with tears. How can I go on? Bowing his head, he sobbed. His entire body shook, the movement sending sharp pains down his injured side, which he ignored.
He remained in the bus several minutes, grateful for the time and that the stranger had respectfully left him alone. Over and over, he asked the Lord “why” while at the same time, scriptures from the book of James crossed his mind: “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city . . .’ You do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”
“Lord, You are the giver of life. You alone decide the number of breaths. Even so, Lord, help me to understand Your will. Your love . . .”
A few minutes later, Elijah climbed out of the bus. He spotted the man standing off in the distance. He lowered his head and walked toward the stranger. Once he reached the man at the base of the ravine, he stopped long enough to look back at the bus. “Is it true the authorities are assuming the people who are missing are underwater?”
“Yes,” he said solemnly.
“And the bodies.” He cleared his throat, finding it hard to think on these terms. “When will they be . . . found?”
“Not until spring.”
Elijah tilted his head toward the sky, tears pooling. God, I need You. What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to accept that she’s gone.
Barking dogs drew closer. Elijah opened his eyes as a pack of hounds circled around a large oak a few feet away and began clawing at the trunk. His gaze traveling up the tree, Elijah’s jaw fell slack. Several feet up, a woman was tangled in the branches.
Chapter 21
Trackers caught up with the dogs within a few minutes of the hounds surrounding the tree. They praised the dogs for their good work, then with a few hand-gestured commands, the dogs stopped barking and moved away from the tree.
As more rescuers arrived, Elijah stood a safe distance away so as not to be in the way of their work. Thankfully the woman dangling in the tree was not Catherine, but from where he stood, he wasn’t sure if it was the same woman who had talked the bus driver into letting them board—the woman who had been seated across the aisle from Catherine.
One man scaled the tree, ropes slung around his shoulder, while the others watched. Elijah drew cautiously closer, overhearing snippets of conversation between the men.
Looking upward, the youngest man of the group shielded his eyes with his cupped hand. “Any chance she’s alive?”
“Maybe.”
“Doubt it. Hank picked up the scent first. Didn’t ya, old boy?” The orange-vested man patted the hound’s head. “Hank here is my top cadaver dog.”
Another man scratched his whiskered jaw. “If she did survive, it’d be a miracle.”
“Let it be so,” Elijah muttered, inching closer. He pushed a limb aside and stepped into the clearing where the rescuers were gathered. The dogs spotted him first and perked their ears. Easy. No sudden moves. Normally dogs didn’t frighten Elijah. He’d raised a few over the years, but dogs in a pack were different.
He scanned the crowd for the redheaded man with kind eyes whom he’d spoken with inside the wreckage, but the man wasn’t anywhere to be found. Instead he met the hardened stares of unfamiliar faces and dozens of slanted brows.
The man who had bragged about his cadaver dog spoke up first. “Where did you come from?”
“I, ah—”
“Ken.” The person standing next to Hank’s owner elbowed the man’s side. “I think he’s one of them there lost souls from the accident, aren’t ya, mister?”
Elijah opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a man off to his right pointed up at the tree. “Randy made it up.” He diverted everyone’s attention to the climber.
Elijah, along with the throng of rescuers, watched as the climber eased down on the limb and scooted toward the woman. After a short evaluation, the climber shook his head. Everyone on the ground had the answer—the woman was dead.
With heads lowered, silence shrouded them all. Elijah not only grieved for the woman whom he’d met only briefly, but he grieved for Catherine and the others still missing. It didn’t take long for the man in the tree to secure a harness around the woman. He used the ropes to carefully lower her down while the other men eased her onto the ground.
For Elijah, everything moved in slow motion, like a terrible nightmare. Only this wasn’t something he could wake himself up from or could erase—nothing after today would ever be the same.
Once the man climbed down from the tree, the men worked together to place the woman onto a black body bag someone had produced from his backpack. Watching them zip it up made it all so final. A collective sigh hung in the air. Elijah blinked and tears slid down his face.
Catherine, where are you?
The rescuers quickly decided among themselves which four men would carry the body back to camp while the others continued to search the wooded area. Elijah took a few steps backward, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He planned to follow the trackers, invited or not.
The four men chosen to return to camp each grabbed a corner strap on the body bag and began the uphill hike. The others attended to their dogs.
“We’re going to lose sunlight if we don’t get moving soon,” the large man everyone called Ken said to the men around him. He left the group and approached Elijah. “I didn’t catch your name?”
“Elijah Graber.” He stood up straighter even though his throbbing back muscles rebelled. “Catherine Glick and I were both passengers on Budget Bus when it crashed, and mei friend Catherine is still missing.”
The man pulled a cell phone out of h
is coat pocket, pressed a few buttons, but instead of making a call, he studied the screen, repeating Catherine’s first and last name under his breath. “I don’t have her on the list. You sure she’s missing?”
“She was seated next to the woman you just pulled down from the tree. Earlier, I was inside the severed section of the bus. It’s on the ice.” He motioned with a nod in the general area. “Beyond those cattails.”
“I’m familiar with its location.”
“The side of the bus with the greatest amount of damage, which I’m assuming was the point of impact, was where Catherine had been seated.” His throat tightened and he fought a wave of nausea, recalling the hole in the ice. “Do you think she’s in the river?”
“No, I don’t.” Ken’s brows puckered as he eyed Elijah with concern. “Mr. Graber.” He spoke slowly, although not in a degrading way. “Your friend’s name isn’t on the list of missing passengers.” He cocked his head. “That means her whereabouts has been accounted for somewhere.”
“Where is she?”
Ken shook his head. “I don’t have that information.” He looked beyond Elijah and made a hand gesture to one of the other workers. “I’m going to have Mitch take you back to camp.”
“But I—” Another wave of nausea roiled his stomach.
The man who had climbed the tree came up to them. “Did you need something, Ken?”
“I’ll be right back,” Ken told Elijah, then motioned for the climber to follow him. They stopped a few feet away. “I want you to make sure Mr. Graber gets back to camp all right.” He pivoted slightly, turning his shoulders inward, and lowered his voice.
Straining to listen, Elijah picked up only parts of the conversation.
“He’s one of the accident victims and in no shape to be down here in the ravine. Make sure you have your radio on, and take the backpack with supplies.”