After the birch tree, it was a thirty-foot drop.
She swallowed to get some saliva into her dry mouth. “Don’t let go, Charlie! I’m coming for you.” Shit, how was she going to reach him before he fell?
“I’m slipping!”
“You can hold on! I know you can!”
He was only about six feet away. Too far for her to reach but there had to be some way to get him. Maybe a stray branch she could lower to him? She looked around but couldn’t see anything in the snow. She would have to go over herself and hope she didn’t fall but, dammit, if she did fall, Charlie would still be stuck. The footing was hazardous, even in the best of conditions, and this was the worst of conditions, with those wet leaves.
The wind whipped her scarf. Right. Her scarf! “I’m coming after you right now, Charlie!” She unwrapped the scarf from her neck, knotted one edge around the tree trunk closest to her, and tied the other end around her wrist.
“Ma!” His voice sounded weaker.
“Just one sec!”
Hold on, kid. Don’t let go. Never let go.
She heard his boot scrape against the dirt and leaves, desperately trying to find a foothold. “My shoulders hurt!”
“I’m only a few feet away!”
She nearly leapt over the edge. Her boots skidded on the snowy leaves. The scarf went taut, righting her, and she half slid, half fell the few feet over to Charlie. She grabbed his coat just as one of his hands let go. He screamed until he realized she had him.
“I’ve got you!” His weight pulled at her arm, up to her shoulder, but she wasn’t as worried about that as about the scarf ripping apart from their combined weight.
“I’m going to pull you up against the tree,” she told him.
His gloved hands surrounded her wrist in a death grip. “O-kay.” His teeth chattered, whether from fear or cold, she didn’t know. His dark hat was caked in snow.
She curled her fingers tight in his coat collar, praying all the buttons and zippers held. The yarn of her scarf creaked and strained.
“Move with me. One, two, three…”
She yanked hard, shifting him up and sideways, and his boots banged against the tree and gained a foothold. He grabbed the tree trunk and scrambled up against it. “That’s better!” he yelled.
Damn right it was. Almost there. “Put your back against the trunk so you don’t slip again.” She tried to keep her voice even. This was all still very tricky.
She yanked again, a little to the left, guiding him, and he settled against the trunk, secure. Whew. She closed her eyes for a quick second and let out a deep breath. Despite the cold, she was drenched in sweat.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.”
She clambered over to him, so that her own feet were braced against the tree too. The scarf went slack and that awful pull against her shoulder lessened. That was gonna be sore tomorrow. Assuming they got out of here. One thing she knew, she would never, ever complain about how long her sister made the scarves again.
“Now what?” he asked, his teeth chattering. He hugged himself.
“Now we get out of here. Give me a second to catch my breath.”
Now what? was a damn good question. Going over the edge had obviously been easy, but getting back up presented a much bigger issue.
If she’d stopped to grab a rope from the garage, they could have tied that off and used it, but it all happened so fast and she’d been so sure she could catch Charlie before she needed a rope.
Besides, if she’d gone back for a rope, Charlie might have fallen before she got to him. Stop beating yourself up, Renee, she thought, and start thinking of ways to solve the problem.
If Charlie stood on her shoulders, he might be able reach the top of the cliff. And between her pushing him and his holding on to the scarf like a rope, he could scramble to safety. Yes, she’d try that. If it didn’t work, if he lost his grip on the scarf or he slid back, she could catch him. It might leave her stuck but Charlie would be safe. One problem at a time.
She hugged Charlie tight and kissed his cheek. “I have an idea on how to get back up.”
“How? I can’t climb!” his voice broke.
Hold it together, Charlie. If he had one of his meltdowns out here, they were both dead.
“You won’t have to climb. I’ll boost you up. Plus, you get to go first. It’ll be fun. Think of it like Batman helping Robin climb a wall.”
“You’re not Batman,” he said.
“Captain Marvel, then, like my T-shirt,” she said. “She’ll help you fly.”
“I like Captain Marvel. She punches dinosaurs.”
She explained the plan to him. His face scrunched up in fear.
“You can do it. I know you can. Being afraid is okay. But sometimes you have to work past it. You can work past it.”
“Okay.” His voice was muffled against her coat.
“Besides, we’ll be doing it together. Remember what Captain Marvel says?”
He nodded firmly. “Higher, further, faster, more!” And, now, he smiled.
Not for the first time, she thanked God Charlie shared her love of superheroes. “And then we’ll get hot chocolate.”
“Great.”
Yes, he was fully on board and willing to try. She tightened her grip on the scarf and wrapped it one more time around her wrist so it would have some tension. Her shoulder, already sore, felt as if her arm was being pulled from the socket. But this wouldn’t take long.
She put her arm around Charlie’s waist and helped him crawl over her back. Calm, she thought. Piece of cake. She’d done rescues like this before. They’d always turned out well. It was going to be fine.
Don’t think about the fact that one slip and they would both go tumbling over thirty feet to the jagged rocks at the bottom.
Charlie knelt on her shoulders. “Stand up,” she ordered.
He did, though he held on to one of her hands to steady himself. Step one, accomplished. Just a few feet higher and he’d be able to grab one of the tree branches overlooking the edge of the cliff. All he’d need after that was one big shove and he’d be safe.
She moved her hand to his bum and pushed up. “Steady.”
“Okay.”
He was heavier than she remembered. This would have been easier before his growth spurt. Ack.
“I’m almost there.”
He sounded happy, almost exhilarated. Great. “I knew you could do it.”
“I got it!” His hands firmly curled around the lowest branch of a tree.
Yes! “Awesome. Now pull yourself over and I’ll be right behind you.” She hoped. It was only a few feet. Maybe she could make a leap for it with the scarf as her safety rope.
Wood cracked overhead.
“Ma!”
“Steady! Get up there! Don’t worry!”
She craned her neck to see what tree or branch was threatening to topple over. Just one more second, she pleaded to the storm. Let her son have one more second.
Charlie was halfway to solid ground now. “Just about there,” she called to him.
A louder crack. Wood splintered somewhere above them. Bits of bark rained down on her face. She ducked her head to avoid getting them in her eyes.
The falling tree slammed into the branch Charlie was hanging on to. It gave way. Charlie screamed. She screamed. Her scarf went slack. Her son fell. Oh, shit. She lunged sideways for Charlie and snagged his coat collar again by the merest of inches.
“Gotcha!” she yelled.
Breathing heavily, she hauled him back to her and the relative safety of the sideways birch tree. She lost her footing, fell back against the trunk hard and Charlie slammed into her. Pain fired through her shoulder and back. It didn’t matter. Charlie was crying and his sobs nearly ripped out her he
art. She wrapped her arms tight around her son.
“It’s okay. I got you,” she wheezed out. Safe. He was still safe.
“I hate heights!”
“I know, I know. Easy, Charlie. I’ve got you. Mom’s here.”
Out of sight, more wood crashed against wood with a horrible, solid thud. Snow and leaves rained down on them. Something big whooshed by them, too fast for her to even be scared of it.
The tension in her scarf went slack.
A loud crash echoed from below as the tree hit the ground.
“Holy shit,” Charlie said.
“Careful with the swear words, kid.” She uttered the rebuke automatically. As if she should care he was swearing. That was the least of their problems.
The leaves stopped falling. No more thuds. She took several deep breaths, trying to find some measure of calm.
“You okay?” she asked Charlie.
“Scared.” His teeth chattered. “I didn’t go higher. I’m sorry.”
“You went plenty high. Not your fault the tree didn’t cooperate.”
Her back set against the tree, she wondered how long before their perch gave way from the weight of the snow collecting on its leaves. Seconds, minutes, hours? She really did need Captain Marvel right now. Damn.
She swatted around the flakes that had gathered on her face and eyelashes and tried to stare up into the storm. She caught a glimpse of her scarf, hanging from what was left of the tree branch. She glanced down at her wrist. It was still attached. It must have ripped apart.
“Ma, the kitty’s here,” Charlie said.
“What?”
“Look!” He pointed and she heard a meow above them.
I could kill you, cat, she thought.
The cat meowed again.
“He’s worried about me,” Charlie said.
The cat did sound scared. Join the club, furball.
“He says he could have gone to a warm spot, but he likes me. He says I need a cuddle.”
To her disbelieving eyes, the cat picked his way down the slope, through the branches, leaves and snow, and jumped onto Charlie’s chest.
Oh, great, she thought. Now I’m not just trapped out here in the storm with my son, now I have to deal with a stray cat on top of us. Wonder of wonders, the cat started purring and settled down against Charlie.
“I guess he does like you,” Renee said. “But be careful and don’t move around too much.”
“He’ll be calm. He likes me, likes me better than other people he knows.”
“He sure seems to like you.” The cat was distracting Charlie from their situation, so that was good, so long as it didn’t scratch or claw at them.
“Ma? We’re stuck, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we’re stuck. For now. But I’m catching my breath and then we’ll try something else.”
“You’ll get us out. I know you will. Even if he says you can’t.”
“Who says I can’t?”
“Odin. The cat.”
Great. She was being doubted by a cat. Not just a cat, the cat who’d caused this problem in the first place. No, wait. Charlie was probably the one who was scared and doubting her and pretending it was the cat.
“I’ve done harder rescues than this. I’ll find a way to get us out.”
She looked down at Charlie and he looked up at her. His eyes were wide and trusting and, for an instant, so like his father’s that it took her breath away.
“Okay.” Charlie nodded and went back to petting the cat.
First, assess the situation, Renee decided. Visibility was poor, near whiteout conditions. There was no chance anyone would stumble over them, not in this. That meant they had to either get out themselves or somehow send for help.
Second, assess how long they could last out here. They were both dressed warmly so they had maybe a few hours before exposure became a problem. She suspected, however, that the storm would last far longer than that.
No, what they needed was help and fast. She searched in her pocket for her cell phone and came up empty. She must have put the phone on the counter before going out for the patio furniture. Fuck, fuck.
She closed her eyes to regain calm. If she lost it, so would Charlie.
“How’s the cat?”
“Getting a little cold.”
He’s not the only one. She tapped Charlie’s shoulder. “Since he’s so calm, see if he’ll tuck inside your coat and then zip it back up. Shared body heat will keep both of you warmer.”
“Good idea. Thanks, Mom!”
“But only if you’re sure he won’t scratch you.”
“Nah, he wants to do it. He says it’s a good idea.”
Nice to have your approval, cat.
While Charlie fiddled with his zipper and the cat, she took off her gloves with her teeth, not wanting to lose her hold on her son. With no people around, she’d have to rely on the dogs.
Fingers trembling, she dug out the dog whistle from under her coat and blew it three quick times, a sound that was too high-pitched for any human to hear. Thor and Loki would hear the whistle, rush through the dog door and come to her. Once they were here, she might be able to shove Charlie close enough to them that one of the dogs could grab him with their teeth. Or the dogs might be able to throw her down a branch. And maybe she’d left out rope. They knew enough to retrieve it for her.
If not, she could send one for help, probably Loki, who was marginally faster and less arthritic.
That was assuming, of course, if anyone else was stupid enough to be out in this freakin’ blizzard.
Chapter Three
Daz pulled his van into Renee’s driveway. The snow had already covered her yard in a white blanket. This storm had moved in so very fast. He’d seen several huge branches strewn over the main road already, including one that had just missed the van by a few feet.
They might have to weather the storm at Renee’s. But he had supplies in the van and he bet Renee had prepared to be snowed in as well. He was just glad he’d be here to help.
Daz jammed on his gloves, opened the van door, stepped out and was instantly confronted by two barking German Shepherds. Renee’s SAR dogs seemed determined to prevent him from going anywhere. He flattened himself against the side of the van.
“Hey, easy, guys! Thor! Loki! You know me.”
One of them stopped at his feet—he could never tell which was which—barked three quick times at him, and tapped his leg, like it was some sort of signal.
Crap, it was a search-and-rescue signal, but he didn’t remember which one. The other dog ran off around the side of the garage to the backyard. He came zooming back in only a few seconds, barking all the while. What were they trying to tell him?
“Renee!” he yelled. “Call off Thor and Loki!”
No answer save the sounds of falling flakes and the storm-muffled rustle of leaves and branches.
Very strange, because the garage door was open and Renee’s truck was inside. Could they be out in this storm?
He took a step toward the house. One of the dogs growled. “Easy, boy.” He slipped the cell phone out of his pocket, keeping his eye on the dogs all the while, and dialed Renee’s number. He heard the ring echo inside the house. The answering machine picked up after five rings. Nothing stirred in there.
This isn’t right.
A thousand horrible scenarios ran through his mind. A tree had fallen on them. They were trapped in the forest. One of his enemies found out where his son lived and was after them…
Daz shut them all down. Think, don’t panic. The answer was right in front of him. He knelt down to face the dogs. They came closer and stopped barking. Damn, what was the command word for them?
“Thor, Loki, mellon,” he said.
They quieted for a second but then one of them repeated the springing, b
acking off, and running into the yard and coming back. The other repeated the tapping on his leg.
Finally, he remembered what that meant: a signal for find and retrieve.
The dogs had found someone and needed human help.
Not someone. His family. “Renee! Charlie!” he yelled as he scrambled to open the back of his van, the dogs at his heels.
His son was out in this storm. So was Renee. And they were maybe hurt or worse.
He grabbed a coil of rope from the back of the van and slipped a Swiss Army knife and a flashlight into his pocket. He tossed the rope over his shoulder and slammed the back door of the van shut.
“Okay, Lassie,” he muttered to the nearest dog. “Let’s find out where Timmy fell down the well.”
The dogs led him around the garage and into the backyard. One stayed at his side, the other loped along a few feet ahead. Behind him, Daz heard a branch crack and fall and nearly jumped out of his skin. The damned forest was coming down around them. Give him a nice, predictable enemy with a weapon any day rather than Mother Nature.
He called out for Renee and Charlie again. No answer. They were trapped, they were hurt, maybe one of them was dead… All those wasted years waiting for the right moment to talk to Renee, to tell her how he really felt. He should have forced the issue, he should have done something to win her back and now it might be too late. A few months ago, in what he thought were going to be his last seconds on Earth, all he’d wanted was Charlie and Renee.
The forest loomed ahead, a big mass of trees, branches and debris. He plunged in after the dogs. They slowed, allowing him to pick his way over the snow-laden limbs already littering the ground.
If there had been a path here once, it was gone now. He called out again but his voice was whipped away by the wind.
Visibility narrowed to a few feet. He turned on the flashlight but the beam helped only a little. A hunk of snow smashed into his shoulder. He sidestepped, fearing it was a prelude to a tree coming down. Luckily, the snow was it. For now.
Every instinct he had told him to get the hell out of here.
Phoenix Inheritance Page 3