Backcountry

by Pamela Beason

  Gabriel’s face lit up. He slapped a hand on his forehead. “Omigod,” he squealed, sounding like one of the girls. “That’s perfect!”

  The teens buzzed about how chameleon abilities would make the aliens able to hide out among the Planet X population and how the queens could change colors for different events. Sam became aware of Aidan and Maya staring at her. The crew kids were excited and enjoying themselves, but they were off in an imaginary world instead of grounded in this one.

  She’d lost her commander mojo over the break.

  “Speaking of colors.” She stood up. “Get your jackets and hats if you want them, then let’s enjoy the sunset before we turn in.”

  They scattered to their tents. When they regrouped ten minutes later, Sam noticed there were only nine of them.

  “Where’s Aidan?” she asked Maya.

  “Don’t know.” The girl swiveled her head, checking the surroundings, and after a minute, pointed to a figure walking out of the woods toward them. “Here he comes.”

  “Visiting the facilities,” he told Sam.

  Sam pursed her lips. If he’d come from the toilet, he’d taken a roundabout path to get back. She decided to let it go, for now.

  As the group sat in a line on a ridge, she tried to keep the conversation on the scene before them, naming colors and talking about cloud shapes. The cumulous clouds stacking up near the Canadian border were purple gray and ominous, but the incoming front was predicted to stay to the north.

  The skies in their immediate vicinity were mostly clear. Sam did allow a few brief diversions in their talk about how the colors and shapes in the sunset sky could play into their Planet X game. Everyone needed a little fiction now and then.

  * * * * *

  She managed to connect with Chase that night. He was in Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho, investigating a possible drug ring. But he was also staying current with the Snohomish County investigation.

  “I’ve got the file on the screen now,” he told her. “Nobody’s been able to track Erik Heigler yet,” he told her. “There’s no record of him coming across from Mexico.”

  That wasn’t too surprising, with the sleazebag’s record as a coyote along the southern border. “How about that note?” she asked.

  “Never got to AFIS. There were so many prints all over it that they were all mucked up.”

  Flashes of her own fingers on it, then Aidan’s and Troy’s, zipped through her head. How could she have known the dang piece of paper might be important?

  “The convenience store owner in Glacier couldn’t remember who bought jerky and orange juice. According to him, those are common purchases by hikers and hunters in the area.”

  “Damn,” she muttered. “So we don’t even know if the note really came from Heigler, or if he’s around at all.”

  She didn’t know where any of this was heading. The counselors had reported seeing only a couple of other hikers in the new area last night. No hunters. Nothing suspicious or frightening had happened during the break. She wondered again if Aidan could be responsible for the Klapton note. “Nothing else on the case?”

  Silence dominated the cell phone atmosphere for a second, and she understood he was reading. “Why’d you ask Greene to check out Aidan Callahan?”

  She could hear the worry in his voice. “No particular reason, Chase, other than he knew Kyla and Kim. And Aidan could have met this Heigler character years ago. So, did anyone check him out?”

  “Aidan Charles Callahan, twenty-four years old. Minor drug possession—Oxy, but only two tabs that he didn’t have a prescription for. Last year, couple of speeding tickets. Mediocre grades at Washington State. Dad works for Burlington Northern. Two sisters. Family went through bankruptcy a few years ago. All fairly common stuff for a college kid his age.”

  “Good,” she said, although the Oxy possession was troubling. “Say, Chase, does that case file you’re looking at include photos of boot prints near Pinnacle Lake?”

  “I think so. Hang on. Gotta switch windows here.” She heard keys clicking as he typed. After a minute, he said, “Okay, I’m looking at several photos of prints from the lake shore.”

  “Do you see any boot prints that have a circle logo stamped in the tread?”

  Another pause. “One has a circled number 11 on it; I’m pretty sure that’s the size.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “Here’s another that looks like a stalk of cauliflower inside a circle.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Could it be a tree?”

  “Probably more likely than cauliflower.”

  “A circled tree is a Timberland logo.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  If she told him that Aidan wore Timberlands, Chase would freak out. She shouldn’t have asked him about the prints. “And ... nothing, really. Timberlands are a common brand. I was just showing the kids animal tracks and so I was looking at boot treads and noticing all the different prints they leave.”

  “Uh-huh.” His tone was dry; he knew her too well. “You suspect Callahan of something.”

  “He thinks he should have the job I’m doing right now.”

  “Kyla’s old job?”

  She knew what he was hinting at. “Yes. But he admired Kyla, and he worked alongside her all summer.”

  There was no response.

  “Really, Chase,” she reassured him, “Aidan’s been great to work with, and this is the last expedition of the year. Anything else on the case?”

  “They still have nothing on Chris Rawlins, so he went back to his job in Alaska,” he told her. “I suppose you’re back up there in the mountains.”

  In spite of the fact that I asked you not to go hung in the airwaves between them. He knew by now that she was not the obedient type.

  “Yep. Nine days to go,” she told him. “Everything is quiet. Troy relocated us to a whole different section of the north Cascades. We’ll be okay.”

  “You better be,” he said. “Watch your back.”

  “Te quiero, Chase.”

  “I love you too, querida. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  How ironic. They spent most of their days separated from each other. She ached to kiss his handsome face, run her fingers through his straight black hair, lay her head against his muscular chest, and listen to his steady heartbeat.

  Chase had already been shot once before on assignment, and he nearly died then. What if she never saw him again?

  What if he decided to look for someone more accommodating to his career? His work was important, while these days she was more often unemployed than not.

  Maybe she could live in Salt Lake City. She could still hike; there were incredible mountains and canyons. She could take trips to kayak on the rivers. Maybe she’d learn to love the high desert and not miss the Northwest’s thick evergreens, ferns, ocean inlets, and islands.

  Could she ignore the anti-conservation politics?

  Shouldn’t she at least try?

  Chapter 13

  The brown-speckled bird slowly emerged from its frozen state, first twitching only its head, and then slowly shifting one feathered foot. It took another hesitant step, bobbing its head, and stepped out from beneath the huckleberry bush. The bird was the size of a small chicken. The feathers of its belly were white, while its wings and back were a dull gray brown pattern.

  Olivia twitched her boot in the dirt. That miniscule sound was enough to make the bird freeze again. Gabriel slowly raised a hand and extended a finger, pointing to another bird hiding in the shrubbery a few yards away. Then Taylor sneezed, and those two birds, plus another two they hadn’t yet spotted, leapt into the air with a noisy whir of feathers that startled everyone.

  “Sorry.” Taylor apologized, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “It’s the wind. I think I might be allergic to something.”

  “I hope not.” They’d all been healthy so far. Sam wanted it to stay that way. Only a few more days; the end was in sight. She stood up and stretched, amazed tha
t her entire crew had been able to sit motionless and silent for as long as they had.

  They’d had decent weather for the last four days, but now the breeze was increasing, and the clouds scuttling overhead made the afternoon chilly. So far the sky remained more blue than gray, though. Unfortunately, the front predicted to come in was moving down from Canada and she wouldn’t be able to see the northern skies until they achieved the ridge.

  “Those birds were awesome,” Nick commented.

  “What do you call ‘em again?” Justin wanted to know.

  “Ptarmigans,” Sam told him. “White-tailed ptarmigans, to be precise. Members of the grouse family. Ptarmigan begins with a P, in case you ever want to look it up. P-t-a-r-m-i-g-a-n.”

  “That’s weird,” Ashley said. “Puh-tarmigan.”

  “They turn completely white in the winter so they can blend into the snow,” Sam said. “Right now they’re half-way between winter and summer plumage. The biggest one was the hen, and the other three were probably her chicks for this season, almost grown now.” She stood and picked up her pack. “Let’s get a move on. The clouds are gathering and we still have several miles to go, but I want to show you the lookout. You’re going to love it.”

  She was leading her crew to one of her favorite spots in the north Cascades, an historic fire lookout. The ripe huckleberries were nearly gone along this high trail, but the leaves on the bushes still glowed with colors ranging from mulberry to crimson, a stunning view against the sharp gray and white granite rocks and chartreuse lichens covering the flanks of the mountain. To the east rose the impressive snow-covered pyramid of Mount Baker.

  “Mount Baker is the name given to it by European explorers,” Sam explained to the group. “The native name for that volcano is Koma Kulshan, or just Kulshan.”

  “It’s an active volcano, one of five in Washington State,” Maya added, clearly proud of possessing that information.

  “It’s active?” Justin studied the mountain. “When will it blow?”

  “Not in our lifetime, I hope,” Sam told him. “It does puff out gas now and then, so we know there’s still geologic activity inside it. And sometimes it launches debris flows down the sides into the creeks and valleys.”

  “Earthquakes also happen. They’re pretty common in the Cascades,” Nick added, reminding everyone that he was from western Washington, too. “Mostly little ones.”

  That prompted a discussion of the earthquakes that Justin had felt in California compared with those experienced by Aidan and Maya and Nick in Washington. Justin was sure that California won in the dangerous earthquake category.

  “I heard that Oklahoma now has more earthquakes than any other state,” Taylor added. “It’s the fracking from all those oil wells.”

  “But we had Mount Saint Helens,” Ashley argued. “My mom told me the ash cloud turned Spokane into, like, a wasteland, and I’ve seen pictures of how that mountain collapsed, too. California might have earthquakes, and even Oklahoma, but Justin, you never had an erupting volcano.”

  “I think Hawaii is the clear winner in the American volcano eruption contest right now,” Sam told them, ending what seemed like a senseless competition. “Get moving.”

  Forty minutes and several hundred feet of elevation gain later, they stood at the end of the trail. The old fire lookout rose above them. “Let’s leave our packs down here and take a look around.”

  “Sweet!” Gabriel dropped his pack, then galloped up the rickety wooden steps to the deck. The rest of the crew followed more slowly.

  The lookout perched on the edge of a steep cliff, its deck overhanging the valley below. The view in all directions was spectacular. Mount Baker dominated the east and dozens of other Cascade peaks rippled over the horizon in the south and west. To the north, down the valley, lay the wooded site where they were scheduled to camp this evening.

  “Uh-oh.” Maya groaned, only a second before Sam would have. A turmoil of clouds churned along the Canadian border, thick, high, and dark. Worse, the towering thunderheads were rolling swiftly southward down the valley toward them.

  A jagged streak of lightning flashed in the distance. The resulting boom made them all jump.

  Not so distant, then.

  “Let’s get inside, crew.” She practically shoved the kids into the lookout building. Less than a minute later, the first balls of hail pinged off the roof above their heads. Within seconds, the hammering was so loud they found it impossible to talk. The torrent of hail was punctuated by bolts of lightning and booms of thunder.

  The kids were glued to the large windows, watching the spectacle. The sudden storm was both magnificent and terrifying in its ferocity.

  Maya jogged Sam’s elbow. “The packs.”

  “Crap!” She cursed herself for leading her crew up here, for not keeping better track of the weather. The teens had been cooperating and she’d enjoyed the recent days for the most part. As a leader, she’d gotten lazy, and now they were all going to pay for it.

  As soon as the hail stopped, the deluge began. Rivers of water streaked down the windows, blurring the vista beyond. “Uh, crew, I need volunteers to go down with me and grab our packs.”

  They all turned to stare at her, dismay written on their young faces. She’d have to draft a couple of them.

  Then Justin’s hand shot up. “I’ll go.”

  Ashley and Taylor volunteered next. Then they all gave in.

  “What the heck, let’s all go and grab our own packs,” Sam told them. “Three at a time, so we can speed up and down the steps. Justin, Ashley, Taylor, you volunteered first, so you three go now.”

  The trio dashed out the door, swearing and squealing as the rain hit their heads. In less than five minutes, they thundered back up the steps and through the door, clothes and packs dripping onto the rough plank floor. The others cleared a wide path for them.

  “You look like a voltenark fished out of a sewer,” Ashley told Justin as she shimmied out of her pack.

  Justin set his pack on the floor, leaning it against the wall. “And you’re a rat that swam up through a toilet.”

  “I’m the only one who can battle the storm and emerge looking like a fashion model.” Taylor struck a pose, thrusting out a hip and tossing strings of long blond hair over her shoulder in what would have been a seductive manner had water not been dripping from her eyebrows and the end of her nose.

  They all laughed.

  “Well, now or never.” Aidan moved toward the door.

  Justin wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Cap’n, it makes no sense for everyone to end up like a drowned voltenark.”

  “We’re already soaked,” Taylor agreed.

  Ashley said, “We may as well get the other packs, too.”

  Sam beamed. “That’s a heroic gesture! Thank you, Ash, Justin, Taylor. You three have just earned Navigator status.”

  The three soaked teens high-fived, grinning, and then dashed back out the door.

  “I was ready to go,” Gabriel complained. Olivia and Nick grumbled that they were prepared to go out and get wet, too.

  Sam stifled a smile, inordinately pleased that half her crew had been willing to sacrifice their comfort for others, and the remaining half regretted their missed opportunity to be heroes.

  When her three Navigators had made two more trips and all packs were leaning against the wall, Sam told everyone to face away as Ashley and Taylor changed into dry clothes, then repeated the instruction for Justin.

  “Oh, let ‘em look,” Justin said. “Everyone deserves to see this body.”

  Sam was adamant. “Nope.”

  “Just the dragon,” Olivia suggested.

  “It is awesome,” Gabriel commented, reminding her that the boys had all bathed together several times during the trip.

  “Got your pants on, Justin?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah. Your loss, women of America. But you can still behold the dragon.”

  They all turned to inspect Justin’s upper half. Tu
rning his back to them, he flexed his muscles. The dragon tattoo, black and red, stretched from his neck across his broad back. Its tail curled up just above his belt.

  The girls all made appropriate sounds of appreciation.

  “How much did it hurt to finish that dragon?” Sam wanted to remind the kids of the cost of a tattoo.

  Justin looked at her over his shoulder. “About a month’s worth of burn.”

  “Shirt on, Dragon Man,” she instructed.

  The rain continued with no letup. They slid to the floor, sitting with backs against the walls, everyone eyeing the lone twin bed in the center of the lookout. The sparse furnishings appeared to be as historic as the building itself. In one corner was a small table and a chair. A rusty Coleman stove and an old journal sat on top of the table. The only modern touch was a large plastic bucket with a lid in one corner of the room.

  “People stay here?” Olivia asked.

  “It was originally built to be a place for a firewatch volunteer to live in during the summer. But now, the first hiker to claim it each night can stay here,” Aidan told them. “I slept up here once. Pretty cool, except for the thundering hordes of mice—”

  “Mice?” Taylor studied the floor around her feet.

  “Seemed like there were thousands,” Aidan said. “If you read the journal over there”—he indicated a small notebook that lay open on top of the table—“you’ll see that all the visitors complain about them.”

  Ashley pushed herself to her feet, grabbed the journal, and sat down again.

  “That bucket is to store food.” Aidan jerked his chin toward it.

  “I guessed it was a bucket with a view,” said Taylor.

  “No,” Aidan answered. “The toilet facilities are down the steps, across the field, and up the hill in the trees.”

  “Swell,” Taylor said.

  “The place did come with a shower, Sweet T,” Justin observed.

  Taylor slapped his arm in response.

  Lightning flashed, brightening the room like a spotlight. A clap of thunder reverberated loudly, rattling the small building.