Fire in the Stars

by Barbara Fradkin

“Come on, it’s this way!”

  Tyler stood stock still, drawing into himself. “We don’t know what it is.”

  “We know it’s a fire. Could be a village, could be hikers.”

  He moved reluctantly, as if his feet were encased in chains, and dragged along behind her as she strode up a hill. On the other side, they came upon a broad circle of trampled ferns and strewn spruce boughs, hacked from their stumps by an inexpert hand. Amanda’s excitement gave way briefly to disappointment, until she spotted the ashes of a fire at the centre of the camp. Lying beside it was a charred, empty can, which Kaylee began to lick. Amanda examined the fire, which was cold to the touch, but, when she buried her fingers deep into the middle, still gave off a hint of warmth.

  The fire was recent! There were people nearby.

  “Hello!” she shouted. “Help!”

  “Don’t!” Tyler whispered, hoarse and urgent. She turned in surprise to see him hunched on the ground, cradling his knees to his chest.

  “Tyler, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s the terrorists,” he mumbled, his voice so soft she had to strain.

  “Terrorists? What are you talking about?”

  “They’ll kill us!”

  She knelt at his side and wrapped her arms around his trembling body. “What happened, Tyler?”

  He said nothing. Merely held himself rigid in her embrace.

  “Talk to me, honey. How do you know they’re terrorists?”

  Kaylee crawled up to press her warm body against them. Tyler’s voice came from deep inside their embrace. “Dad thought they were refugees, but then … then … they killed him!”

  Amanda caught her breath. Waited.

  “And now they’re after me.”

  She tightened her grip. “I won’t let that happen. They’re gone now. They left this camp hours ago. What happened to your dad, honey?”

  “He only wanted to help them. He’d been trying to find them for days, ever since he heard they were stranded in a lifeboat. So he was going to buy one of this guy’s boats to go look for them —”

  “What guy?”

  “This old hermit on the cape. We borrowed a little boat to get there, but when we did, we saw these four guys piling stuff into the guy’s boat. They ran into the woods when they saw us coming, so Dad … Dad went looking. He made me wait in the boat.” Tyler rocked. “I heard a shot, and when Dad came down the path, he was … he was …”

  She held him. Rubbed his back. “Take your time, Ty.”

  “He told me to take our boat and go. Leave him. I said no. Is he dead?”

  “Who? Your father?”

  “I buried my father. The old hermit!”

  Amanda hesitated. Truth was usually wiser in the long run, even with children. “Yes. So you got your dad back in the boat?”

  “Dad couldn’t drive it. He was so pale, and … gurgling …”

  “I know, honey. So you drove it?”

  “I was so scared. They took the other boat and I thought they were coming after us, so I drove as fast as the boat would go. Dad said to go straight to the Grenfell Hospital in St. Anthony. Straight up the coast. But I —” he gulped “— I crashed it. Didn’t see the rocks. I got him ashore, I got him to the woods, but I couldn’t … I couldn’t … I couldn’t save him.”

  A shudder began deep in his core and rose and rose. He howled. A raw, primal wail of pain. Again and again, until tears came and he sobbed as if he’d never stop.

  A dozen questions clamoured in Amanda’s mind. Who were the fugitives and what were they running from? Did it have to do with the angry Greek Phil had met at the Fisherman’s Dory Café in Anchor Point? Did Phil know about the dead body found in the ocean, or the wrecked lifeboat near Grandois? All this, and possibly more questions she hadn’t thought of yet. But she stifled them all. Now was not the time. Even when his tears stopped, Tyler lay quietly, too exhausted to speak.

  A damp autumn wind was sweeping in from the east, chilling them both. She looked uneasily at the sky through the lace of overhead boughs. Tatters of deep blue still peeked through the afternoon sky, but the clouds looked bruised. Was it going to pour? She gave Tyler a reassuring squeeze and extricated herself.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to rain. We need to cover some ground before it gets dark,” she said. “Get away from this camp and find some shelter. I want to try to reach the coast.”

  He didn’t move. “I’m sorry I got you into so much trouble, Amanda.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be lost in the middle of the forest.”

  “You think I’d leave you to fend for yourself with a horde of bad guys on your tail? We’re in this together, Ty. Always have been, ever since those days in Cambodia when you used to ride on my handlebars down to market. Remember that?”

  “That was to get me out of my mother’s hair.”

  She looked at him in surprise. From the mouths of babes. Tyler had always been a chatterbox, and ever since he’d been able to string two words together, he’d craved someone to talk to. They had all taken turns. She hugged him. “I loved those rides, you made me see things through such fresh eyes. Everything was an adventure to you, even a hot, dusty, tedious trip into town.” She extended her hand to haul him to his feet. “So come on. No more silliness about being a burden, okay? Together we’re getting out of this.”

  He rose on unsteady legs and began to trudge after her. Head bowed and feet dragging. “But I know I wasn’t supposed to come on this trip. This was for you and Dad, to help Dad get his head straight.”

  “Is that what your father said?”

  “It was what Mum said. He was grumpy all the time, and sometimes he’d take off and come back hours later, drunk. They yelled at each other all the time.” He paused. “Actually, she yelled and most of the time he didn’t answer. That made her yell even more.”

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s been a rough year for your dad, Tyler.”

  He shrugged her off. “He didn’t want to be cheered up. Even on this trip. He promised we’d have fun, see whales and Vikings and stuff. That’s why he said I should come! So we could have some fun together after all those grumpy months.”

  “You mean you, him, and me?”

  “He said we’d meet you later. He wanted some time just with me first.”

  Amanda pondered this in silence. They were making slow progress through the forest, picking their way around rocks and over deadfall. She kept a close eye on the sun to ensure they kept going in a vaguely eastern direction.

  Had Phil really intended to leave her dangling when she arrived in Newfoundland? Wondering where he was and where they were supposed to meet up? Or had he simply lost track of time? He was Mr. Unreliable, after all.

  “Where were you supposed to meet me?” she asked casually.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think Dad did, either. Maybe up at the Viking settlement. He said he was looking for a really great campsite. But every day he got grumpier and grumpier.” Tyler fell silent and his pace slowed. He poked at a fern in his path. “I think I got on his nerves.”

  Amanda paused to wait for him. “Everything got on his nerves, Ty, but he was never happier than when he was with you.”

  “Then why did he go off looking for those stupid terrorists?” he burst out. “He forgot all about the Vikings and our boat tour and just kept chasing after them!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ever since he met that guy in the pub, he hardly paid any attention to me. Even in St. Anthony, we were supposed to be going on a boat tour, but all he wanted to do was talk to some shrimp-boat captain about the workers on his ship.”

  Tyler had stopped altogether now, and stood red-faced and clench-fisted behind her. “He thought the terrorists were in danger, and look what happened
. They fucking killed him!”

  He hurled the curse into the air, shocking them both. They stared at each other, and in the silence, Amanda heard Kaylee’s growl. She had been so caught up in the conversation that she had paid no attention to the dog.

  The growl startled Amanda back to the present. The sun had disappeared and a strong, musty wind was blowing in from the north, rattling the spruce boughs. Kaylee was facing into the wind, her hackles raised and her nostrils flaring.

  Amanda held up her hand to silence Tyler. Her eyes strained to see through the dense brush and her ears sifted the silence. She heard the cracking of twigs and the furtive swish of leaves coming from the side. Kaylee whirled around and took off, barking. Amanda bit back a shout and motioned to Tyler to get down. She pulled him behind a large boulder and crouched beside him.

  A rifle shot rang out, followed by a howl of pain. Kaylee! No! She wanted to scream, perhaps she did. Guttural shouts erupted, and instantly the forest came alive with threat, with screams of pain, the sweet scent of blood and gunpowder, the eye-watering smoke of burning huts.

  Not again! Not now!

  She clutched Tyler to her in an iron grip. He squirmed, staring at her with wide eyes. Branches cracked as the killers raced forward, shouting over one another in a chaotic din.

  Before she could think, she was on her feet and dragging Tyler with her. Ducking low, she bulldozed through the brush, weaving around trees and leaping over deadfall. Behind her she heard crashing, but she didn’t dare look back. Didn’t dare think. About the deadly hordes, the flashing knives, the bloodied dog left behind …

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring the forest ahead and blinding her to the branches that raked her skin. Her legs cramped in pain, but she forced them on. A sharp spruce bough slammed into her, spinning her around and hurling her to the ground. She lay stunned, gasping air into her paralyzed lungs. Her tears evaporated. Must get up! She groped through the moss and ferns for Tyler’s hand, and closed, finally, on his warm, moist fingers. Still safe!

  When she strained her ears for the sounds of their pursuers, she heard shouts that were too close for safety. “We have to keep moving!” she whispered, scrambling to her feet.

  They raced blindly through the forest, panting up a ridge and windmilling down the ravine on the other side. At the bottom, a small creek carved a deep crevice through the valley. She splashed across it with Tyler right on her heels. He hadn’t said a word, but she could hear him sobbing for breath. He’s exhausted, starving, and traumatized, she thought. We have to find a hiding place.

  Facing a steep embankment, she skidded to a stop to take her bearings. The creek tumbled through the ravine, and although she could hear nothing over the sibilant rush of water, she knew the killers couldn’t be far behind.

  Tyler was bent over, sucking huge gulps of air into his lungs.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He managed a slight shake of his head. Or maybe it was a nod.

  “We’ll follow the creek,” she said. “It will be easier and it seems to be going somewhere.”

  She turned to forge ahead, ankle deep in water, but Tyler didn’t move. She stepped back to take his arm. “Tyler, we can do this. As soon as we find a good place to hide, we’ll rest. But we can do this!”

  “Your dog!” His gasps turned to sobs. “I hate them! I hate them!”

  “So do I. But don’t let them fucking win!”

  The curse shocked the boy into action. He began to move, slowly, his head hanging and his feet dragging through the water. Hugging the narrow bank, she picked up the pace, slipping and splashing through reeds and over rocks, but somehow staying on her feet. Up ahead, the roar of water grew louder as the creek rushed toward a drop. For safety, she scrambled farther up the muddy bank, clinging to roots and saplings while down below, the creek gathered force in its descent. Up ahead, she could see it disappearing over a steep, rocky drop.

  Behind her, she heard a scream. She turned back just in time to see Tyler pitch down the bank, flailing and grabbing at branches before he fell into the water and swirled through the rocks.

  She leaped down into the rapids. Although the water wasn’t deep, the current tugged at her legs and she could feel her balance giving way. She seized an overhanging branch and pulled herself slowly back upstream toward him.

  He was struggling to stand up, but each time he slipped and fell back into the relentless current. Finally he draped himself over a boulder in the middle of the brook and hung on in exhaustion, mere metres from the waterfall. He raised a ghost-white face to her.

  “Hang on! Don’t move!” she shouted over the din of the water. She inched her way up, from one branch to the next, all the while trying to think of the best way to get him safely to shore. She came alongside him and leaned out over the water. Her fingertips touched his, but she knew it wasn’t enough. If he were pulled from her grasp by the current, he would be swept over the falls before he could even try to stop.

  “Hold still,” she said. “I’ll get you, but I need …” Her gaze fell on two large rocks by the water’s edge. She tugged and shoved and rolled them little by little into the brook until they formed a chain of obstacles leading from the shore to Tyler.

  “Work your way around your boulder and behind these rocks. Don’t try to stand. Hang onto the rocks. I’ll get a branch to help you to shore.”

  He looked up at her, his whole face twisted with pain and panic. “I can’t feel my right foot.”

  “It’s probably just cold,” she replied. “Crawl on your knees. The important thing is to keep these rocks downstream from you.”

  He crawled around the boulder and wedged himself between it and the next rock. Water sucked at his clothes and his lips were turning blue. He stretched a pale, trembling hand toward the next rock. “I … I can’t.”

  She broke off two branches of deadfall and splashed out into the water to brace them between the rocks, strengthening the bridge. Then she grabbed the top of his backpack and guided him to the bank. Tyler collapsed to his hands and knees. “I still can’t feel my foot,” he managed through clenched teeth. She bent down to examine his foot, but could see no signs of blood or injury around the shoe. When she touched it, however, he screamed in pain.

  “Can you bend it?”

  “Hurts too much.”

  “Wiggle your toes?”

  He wrinkled his brow in concentration. “Yes,” he said after a few seconds.

  “That’s good. I think at worst, it’s sprained. I’ll splint it and make you a crutch.”

  It took her fifteen minutes to fit him up with a splint and crutch fashioned from the branches she had torn loose. She tried not to think about their pursuers, and the gains they were making. When she hauled Tyler to his feet, he was able to hobble a few steps, but how they were going to manage the rugged terrain, she didn’t know.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t walk.”

  “Let’s see what’s below these falls,” she said. “If I have to, I’ll carry you.”

  “You can’t carry me. I’m almost as big as you!”

  “You’d be surprised.” He was probably right, of course, but she wasn’t about to let him know. “And I know how to make a stretcher too.”

  “I’ll sit here while you check out what’s ahead.” He started to ease himself down.

  “No you won’t! Come on, lean on me.”

  By bracing himself against her, he managed to hop forward. Their progress was excruciatingly slow, and all the while, she imagined she could hear crashing through the bush behind them. When they reached the bottom of the falls, the ravine opened up. Inky blue sky, a yawning drop, and beyond it the sparkling silver sea.

  And down at the bottom of the hill, like a gap-toothed smile, a string of little houses clustered around a tiny bay.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As the police
Zodiac steered back into Conche Harbour, Chris spotted the trademark fedora of Matthew Goderich. The journalist was pacing at the dockside, and he rushed forward before Chris or anyone else could disembark.

  “The body — is it Amanda?”

  “No comment!” Sergeant Amis snapped. “Let us get off the goddamn boat first.”

  “But it’s a body, right?”

  “I can confirm that human remains have been discovered, yes, but until we have more information —”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Man or woman?”

  Amis hesitated. He studied Matthew, and Chris could almost see him weighing his options. News travelled fast between the close-knit communities up and down the coast, and keeping secrets was nearly impossible. In the end, Amis fell back on standard prattle.

  “We’ll be issuing a statement at —” he glanced at his watch “— ten a.m. tomorrow, and until then I request that you keep this information confidential until we have a chance to speak to the parties affected.”

  Matthew wasted no further effort on him, but instead spun around to fall into step beside Chris. “Is it Amanda?” he whispered as they walked down the wharf.

  Chris shot him an oblique glance. “No.”

  A spasm of relief passed over Matthew’s face. “Phil, then?”

  “Matthew, don’t ask me! You know I can’t say.”

  “Oh my lord, poor man.” Matthew faltered and grabbed the side of a pickup truck for support. “How did he die? Suicide?”

  “Goderich!”

  Matthew held up a conciliatory hand. “I know. Ten a.m. But where’s Amanda?”

  “We don’t know,” Chris said. A wave of sorrow and fatigue crashed over him, tightening his chest. “Out there somewhere.”

  “Alone?”

  Chris hesitated.

  In the silence, Matthew sucked in his breath. “Or with the kid! She’s with Phil’s kid, isn’t she? Oh Jesus, a nightmare for her all over again!”

  “I didn’t tell you anything.”

  “You think I’m an idiot? Goddamn it, Tymko! I’m on your side here. She’s my friend. Phil’s my friend. You think all I want to do is plaster some sensational story all over the headlines?” Matthew turned and stormed off toward the collection of trailers and tents that had sprouted up around the RCMP mobile command post on the hill above the village. He threw the last words over his shoulder. “Does his wife know? Someone will have to talk to her.”