Backcountry
Page 17
When Jenn awoke, the sun had shifted in the sky. Her mouth was filled with the foulest of tastes, but the throbbing in her head had subsided into a dull ache. She leaned over and was shocked by her reflection. The woman looking back her, with wan, pale skin and haunted eyes, seemed at least a decade older than the one who had set out on the camping trip. The blow to her head had left a nasty gash and that side of her face was swollen and bruised. Her lips were dry and cracked, and dark circles underlined her eyes. She hurriedly stuck her hand in the water, breaking the image into a hundred ripples, and splashed water on her face. Before she could slump back in the canoe, she grabbed the oar to paddle her way back out to the main body of water. The lake was a picture of tranquility, surrounded on all sides by trees except where the limestone cliffs sprang from the water. The sun was shining and only the lightest of breezes ruffled the water into barely noticeable chop. Birds sang unconcernedly and there was an occasional plopping sound followed by a perfect circle of ripples as a fish leapt out of and back into the water.
The trees along the shore seemed to be whispering in the wind, their words just below the range of Jenn’s hearing, but malevolent in tone. The shadows between them seemed to be full of terrors just waiting to leap out on the unsuspecting. She knew that she would never, could never, see the wilderness the same way again. The thin veneer civilization had applied had been ripped away, and she had seen the darkness underneath. She knew now that, however much control humans thought they had, there were things out there that saw them as just more meat, a creature to kill or be killed, like any other beast of the earth. As she paddled, Jenn’s thoughts became darker and darker. She replayed Alex’s last moments over and over, wondering if there was anything she could have done. The only solace she clung to was that their last night together had been spent telling each other how they felt, that the fight had not been their last words, and that Alex had known how she truly felt.
She was dragged from her memories as she rounded a bend, and her eyes took in the sight of the boat launch they had started from an eternity ago. Jenn’s heart leaped in her chest and she began to paddle faster, the finish line in sight. The exertions broke the wounds on her arm open again and blood trickled down onto the shaft of her oar, rendering it treacherously slippery. It twisted in her hands and was gone, floating away before she could grab it, escaping her desperate attempt to pull it back to her.
“No!”
After all this, Jenn was not going to let the loss of her oar stop her from reaching land and safety. Leaning over of the edge of the canoe, she used her hands as paddles, grunting with effort as she splashed and clutched at the water, sheer force of will the only thing that was keeping her going. The shore grew closer, inch by agonizing inch, and Jenn ignored the burning of aching muscles and the sharp pains lancing her wounded arm as her focus narrowed to a single point on the shore blocking all else out. Every fibre of her being was aimed at bringing herself to land, and she continued to paddle, the boat moving forward but beginning to turn parallel to the shore. She cursed and moved to the other side, bumping her ankle in the process and letting out a stifled cry of pain. The next ten minutes were sheer agony as she continued to switch from side to side, the canoe zigzagging toward the shore terribly slowly. Stroke, stroke, move. Jenn’s world narrowed even further, the repetitive motions becoming all she was—she was not even thinking as the primitive part of the brain obsessed with survival took over. She nearly overbalanced as the canoe came to a sudden halt, the bottom scarping against the sandy bottom of the lake. For a moment, she didn’t understand what had happened, still frantically paddling in a desperate attempt to keep the canoe moving.
When she became aware that she had hit the shore, she slumped in relief, not moving, not knowing what to do next. After a moment, awareness filtered back. She was still not safe; she still needed to keep moving, to find the ranger, to find anyone who could help her. She sat up and gripped the side of the canoe and, with a groan of pain, dragged herself over the edge with a convulsive heave. Weakened by the effort, she half fell into the water, landing on her back with a splash. She floundered, panicking, as water closed over her face, burning as it invaded her nose. Jenn gasped and sat up, relieved beyond measure to discover that she was sitting in just over a foot of water and that she wouldn’t drown unless she passed out. That seemed like a real possibility, though, as her vision faded in and out. She summoned her energy and rose to her feet. For a moment, she stood there, swaying, and then she took a few steps, falling rather than walking, letting gravity carry her onto the shore, where she collapsed on the soft grass. She lifted her head and tried to call out, but her voice was now completely gone, and all that escaped her lips was a hoarse whisper.
“Help me.”
There was no answer. She began to crawl away from the lake, heading toward the car park, her one mad thought that she might be able to find her phone still in her car, the fact the keys were still somewhere in the forest never even crossing her addled mind. She kept crawling, dragging her injured leg behind her, sunlight glinting off her ring as she reached and dug her fingers into the turf and dragged herself forward, repeating the process with the other arm, pushing herself forward with her uninjured leg. Voices began to filter through her fogged mind and she looked up, struggling to focus. There was a group of hikers standing around facing the lake, except for one man, who had his back to her as he addressed the group. The hikers looked so clean, their gear spotless and their faces fresh, so full of life and so innocent. Jenn wanted to scream at them, to tell them to get in their cars and go home before the forest could get them. Instead she opened her mouth.
“Alex is . . .”
Words failed her, and she put her head down and continued to crawl. She looked up again, seeing the shock on their faces as they watched her struggle toward them, taking in her battered body and her torn and dirty clothes. The leader turned and Jenn felt a shock of recognition at the sight of Brad’s sharp features. She watched as he dropped his clipboard and ran toward her, yelling out for someone, anyone, to call the ranger. She crawled on, spots dancing before her vision, consciousness slipping away. Her last memory was Brad leaning forward, his strong hands on her arms, and a voice telling her that she was safe, that everything was going to be okay. Then she finally allowed herself the luxury of oblivion.
Epilogue
CAMPER DEAD IN HORROR BEAR ATTACK
Nibookaazo Provincial Park, ON
A male camper is dead and his female companion recovering in hospital after a horrific black bear attack over the weekend.
The couple were hiking in Nibookaazo Provincial Park when they became lost and wandered off their intended trail, moving deeper into the forest and away from more frequented areas of the park. A Parks Ontario spokesperson said that the couple was attacked in their tent, but refused to speculate on whether the animal had been attracted by unsecured food.
The man, in his mid-20s, was killed by the bear, while the woman, also in her mid-20s, managed to escape. Despite her injuries, she managed to find her way back to the lake through thick woodland, surviving several nights without food and shelter. After retrieving her canoe and making her way to the shore area, she was found by a local tour guide, who alerted authorities.
Park officials refused to identify the woman, but expressed confidence that she would make a full recovery despite her ordeal. Efforts are underway to locate the man’s body and attempts will be made to trap the bear and move it to a remote location.
Bear attacks remain extremely rare in the area; however, Parks Ontario reminds campers and hikers to observe safety precautions while visiting the park.
Acknowledgements
If it weren’t for Matthew Baugh, Jean-Marc Lofficier, and Bob Greenberger, I would never have been given this opportunity. My thanks to them, and to my patient editors, Rob Simpson and Deanna McFadden—as well as the indefatigable Steph Alouche and the other amazing people at Joe Books.
To my family, without whose love and support my dreams of being published would still be just dreams, thank you for believing in me and for your patience all the times I locked myself away in my study.
This book was written with the help of Scrivener and Dropbox, two of the best friends a writer can have.
About the Author
D.E. McDonald is a mild-mannered reporter and editor by day and a wild-eyed writer by night. Based in Melbourne, Australia, he is the editor of a magazine for an international welfare organization, and he divides his spare time between helping to run a local cricket club and writing.
As David McDonald, he writes speculative fiction. In 2013, he won the Ditmar Award for Best New Talent, and in 2014, he won the William J. Atheling Jr. Award for Criticism or Review and was shortlisted for the WSFA Small Press Award. His short fiction has appeared in anthologies such as The Lone Ranger Chronicles from Moonstone Books and Epilogue from Fablecroft Publishing. David is a member of the Australian Horror Writers Association, The International Association of Media Tie-In Writers, and the Melbourne-based writers group, SuperNOVA.
He goes camping at least once a year—but not in the backcountry.
You can find out more at www.davidmcdonaldspage.com
Copyright
Backcountry © 2015 Backcountry Productions Inc.
Novelization based on the screenplay by Adam MacDonald
All rights reserved under all applicable International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
EPub Edition March 2015 ISBN: 9781443444910
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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