Wicked River

by Jenny Milchman

“No,” Doug said. “I mean that I don’t think he used any tools. These branches are too irregular. I can’t believe this is even possible.”

  Natalie nodded. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any tools around.”

  Doug pointed to the wall again. “There aren’t any nails, so I wouldn’t expect a hammer. But how about a saw or an ax?”

  Natalie shook her head. “He collects wood from the ground for his fires. There’s no chopping block even. Yet he gets those blazes to rage.”

  Doug let out an admiring whistle. “Who is this guy?”

  Natalie rubbed her arms; they’d gone prickly with cold. She wanted to share the impressions she’d been accumulating about Kurt, but feared it might be too early in Doug’s recovery. Her husband needed to build up strength. Anyway, it wasn’t as if Kurt had shown anything besides caring and attentiveness toward them, and been generous with his sparse possessions.

  “Do you know how long he’s been living like this?” Doug asked.

  Natalie thought. “Two or three years maybe? I think he made a reference to this being his third summer.”

  Doug whistled again, shaking his head. “So the two of you have spent some time together, it sounds like?”

  With a burn to her cheeks that she hoped was imperceptible in the dim light, Natalie said, “Well, not a lot of time. Most of yesterday I was watching you sleep.”

  “How long was I out?” Doug asked.

  Natalie paused. “You know? That’s a good question. I don’t know how long it’s been since Kurt found us. I was in and out for a while myself.”

  A look passed between them, the shared strangeness of where they had been, the fact that they very nearly hadn’t returned.

  “I came to a few times.” Doug’s voice sounded tentative. “I don’t think Kurt even knew I was awake. And when I did, I saw him…” He trailed off.

  “You saw him what?” Natalie asked.

  Doug changed course, emitting a dry chuckle. “He was probably just watching to make sure I was still alive. Kurt has this kind of penetrating gaze, you know?”

  Natalie cast her eyes around, checking that they were alone. “I’ve noticed.”

  “But he’d also say things,” Doug went on.

  “Like what?” Natalie asked quickly.

  “Maybe I’d been talking in my sleep, I don’t know, but Kurt would murmur these phrases. As if he was trying to offer me comfort, except they were things he really shouldn’t have known. Don’t worry, you haven’t lost her. Pretty intimate stuff.”

  Natalie felt a momentary flurry of goose bumps across her skin.

  “Nat?” Doug said. “Kurt didn’t… He hasn’t tried anything with you, has he?”

  Natalie shook her head, fast and hard. “No! If anything, the opposite—”

  Doug looked relieved. “I don’t mean to be a jerk here. We don’t want to act ungrateful. I mean, the guy saved our lives.”

  “I know he did,” Natalie said. “He had to take care of some pretty gnarly tasks too.” With a flush, she recalled the first time she’d gone to the bathroom. “And Kurt seems genuinely invested in our recovery. I think he might be some kind of doctor.”

  “He sure cured me,” Doug replied. “That plant or whatever.”

  They both nodded, looking at each other.

  A sudden, loud crashing came from the woods, and the wind stirred up a cyclone of leaves. Natalie and Doug both jumped, then moved closer together. A branch broke off with a brittle snap, and they spun in that direction, dizzy on their feet.

  “There you two are!” said Kurt with a ringing cry. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “I was worried about you,” Kurt said, ushering them inside the bigger hut, which Natalie realized she hadn’t seen until now. “There’s a storm coming, and I don’t think either of you is up to getting soaked and chilled.”

  Natalie spoke casually. “You know, we thought of something.”

  “Oh yes?” Kurt said. He pointed to a pad on the floor—this hut boasted a crinkly tarp covering a section of the bare ground—indicating that she and Doug should sit.

  “Neither of us knows exactly when you found us,” Natalie said. “How much time have we spent here?”

  “Not much,” Kurt replied. He busied himself beside a wooden crate that looked half-demolished, coming out with a protein bar, which he extended in their direction.

  Natalie and Doug both gasped. It was like looking at an obsolete yet essential instrument, a relic that had been feared forever lost.

  Kurt sent them a look of understanding. “A rarity out here, I know,” he said. “I think I mentioned that hikers sometimes pass through and leave offerings. Today you’ll be the recipients of their generosity.” He unwrapped the bar and broke it neatly in half.

  “Please,” Doug said. “Take one of those. Natalie and I can split the other.”

  Kurt placed one of the halves on Doug’s palm, then reached for Natalie’s hand, cupping it to deposit the remaining piece of bar. “I wouldn’t think of it,” he said.

  Natalie took a nibble. The taste was so overwhelming—manufactured flavors and ingredients intermingling at a hundredfold rate compared to anything Kurt had fed her—that her mouth cramped in a spasm. She had to hold off eating the rest. Only the site of Doug gnawing, his Adam’s apple jumping up and down as he swallowed every bite, enabled Natalie to proceed cautiously again.

  “Thank you,” she said, licking her lips for any lingering trace of bar.

  At the same time Doug said, “Not much…so like a couple of days?”

  Kurt considered, dropping down beside them on the tarp. “Something like that. Possibly as many as three.”

  “Yikes,” Natalie said. She looked at Doug. “So we’re overdue by…how many?”

  Doug paused to calculate. “I’m pretty sure we stopped walking on day seven. Which means we would’ve been expected… Shit. Two days ago.”

  Kurt watched them.

  “People are going to be worried,” Natalie told Doug. “My sister. Mark and Brett.”

  “Zach and Naomi too,” Doug said.

  Their bosses. Doug would be fine, but Natalie’s new job meant she hadn’t accumulated much time off yet. She’d been forced to ask for unpaid days for their honeymoon as it was. “Not to mention Mia,” Natalie added. “She’ll be leading the hunt.”

  Kurt spoke up. “Who’s Mia?”

  Natalie turned to him. “My niece,” she said with a rueful smile. “We’re very close. And she’s at that age where she thinks she’s the only one who can take care of anything.”

  Kurt sent her a similar smile back.

  “This probably sounds stupid,” Natalie said, “but do you have a radio? Or any means of communicating with the outside world?”

  Kurt shook his head. “That’s kind of the point,” he said. “To be out of touch.”

  “How far are you from the nearest town or road?” Doug asked. “Trailhead even?” When Kurt didn’t reply, Doug added, “Where are we?”

  “As best I can tell—from hikers who have passed through—I now reside in what’s called the Turtle Ridge Wilderness Area, some seventy-five miles south of the Canadian border,” Kurt said. “So named for the way in which the many mountains resemble humped turtles lying on the ground.”

  Did Kurt not know exactly where he lived? Natalie sent Doug a look of surprise and dismay. This meant that they had covered seventy-five miles since discovering Craig’s body. More probably, since a certain portion of the distance had surely been spent crisscrossing and doubling back.

  “It’s a five-day walk out,” Kurt went on. “But that’s at a good clip. For people in tiptop shape. And under near-perfect conditions, seasonally, weather-wise.”

  As if to drive home the point, a clap of thunder shook the thin walls of the hut. Rai
n slashed through the air outside, while lightning throbbed in a greenish-yellow sky.

  Kurt rose, standing at full height beneath the slatted roof. “Today we stay put,” he said. “Nowhere to go in the likes of this. You two can get at least another full day of rest. Time enough to discuss options after that.” He paused, then nodded at them. “Unless of course you decide it’s so nice and cozy that you wish to stay.”

  Doug offered him a grin in response. “Yeah, right.”

  Natalie’s accompanying smile felt forced.

  Kurt gave them both a nod, holding up a hand when Natalie started to rise, before crossing to the doorway and peeking outside. “Stay here. The mat is comfortable, and the tarp will keep you dry. I’ll just run over to the other hut… I don’t mind a little shower.”

  He ducked through the opening and was gone.

  Natalie didn’t expect to need a great deal more sleep—certainly not the heavy, drugged daytime sort that had so muddled her sense of time—but she didn’t open her eyes again until purple twilight was filling the hut.

  Then she rose from the mat and tiptoed over the tarp, trying to keep the material from crinkling so as not to disturb Doug.

  She sensed when he came up behind her.

  He ringed her waist with his arms as they stood at the threshold. Endless layers of mountains made up the vista before them, violet light pooling in creased valleys between. Off in the distance, they caught a glimpse of a shimmering lake.

  “Wow,” Doug said. “Some spot.”

  “See?” came a voice.

  Natalie hadn’t registered Kurt’s presence till then. He’d been snapped into existence like a magic trick, appearing out of nowhere beside them. He had traded one set of clothes for another, and his damp hair smelled of pine.

  “You like it here,” Kurt added, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

  It occurred to Natalie for the first time how rarely Kurt smiled. Even on those occasions when he had, the expression didn’t seem to connote the same happiness that this one did.

  “Let’s just say I can see why you stay,” Doug said, rocking Natalie against him. His body felt stronger already, although he still seemed to be favoring his right arm. Natalie made a mental note to ask about the injury again.

  Kurt regarded them. “There’s nothing like it,” he agreed. “You know, I contemplated going back at first, like you two are. But when I started thinking about the things that I missed, they all seemed so trivial. Turning on a tap for hot water. What’s wrong with fetching some from the creek and building a fire to heat it? Or ready access to convenience foods. As Natalie here will tell you”—he paused to nod in her direction—“things you never would’ve imagined eating taste mighty good out here.”

  “You can say that again,” Doug responded.

  Kurt looked at him. “When I started picturing—really picturing—going back, well, that was what did it for me. Because what I saw were bars clanging shut. Shackles pinching themselves around my ankles. Everything I didn’t want to face. That’s what life is like out there when you get right down to it. No one truly knows the meaning of free.”

  Doug looked mesmerized, entering some state conjured up by Kurt’s words. “Hey, man,” he said. “I totally get where you’re coming from.”

  Natalie dug her finger into the scant flesh at her husband’s side. He’d lost enough weight that she could feel his skeleton. But at least the touch seemed to snap Doug out of it. He turned to her and frowned. She thought to mouth a warning, but wasn’t sure what it should be. Besides, what if Kurt proved to be as adept at lipreading as he was at intuiting other forms of nonverbal communication?

  He spoke into the pause. “I have to gather firewood, then start tonight’s meal. I’m sure you’re both famished.” He gave a clap of his hands. “Either of you like to help?”

  Doug took a step forward, but Natalie caught his hand and pulled him back, allowing Kurt a head start.

  “What’s up?” Doug asked. He looked eager to get going.

  “I guess you didn’t get what I did out of that little speech?” Natalie asked.

  Doug lifted his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t think Kurt was joking before we went back to sleep earlier.” Natalie spoke hurriedly. “He’s not a kidding-around kind of guy.”

  The picture had been forming in Natalie’s mind, taking shape like a paint-by-numbers kit. Kurt stating that Natalie didn’t have to worry about helping with chores “for now” after she’d first gotten back on her feet. His promise to make more clay cups. Why would he need to do that for temporary residents? He’d also referenced the future at least once—autumn, when the chipmunks would go into hiding.

  Doug nodded Natalie on, no less impatient.

  Kurt called out from the edge of the forest, raising his arm to summon them. “Coming, you two?”

  Natalie gave an enthusiastic nod and wave back. Then she lowered her voice, speaking intently to Doug. “I think he means for us to stay.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Her parents kept Mia so busy, shuttling her back and forth between them, barely giving her any unsupervised time, that she didn’t get to go onto Mark’s Facebook account—page, whatever it was called—and poke around for another whole day. She still hadn’t heard from Aunt Nat, and by then her stomach felt like she’d swallowed a porcupine—like the time she’d been in the school play, only worse—so that when Mia tried to log on, her fingers were shaking so hard she could barely hit the right buttons.

  Even though he was hot and a teacher, Mark Harden only had forty-seven Facebook friends. Duh, it wasn’t like his students would be friending him. They were all hanging out on Snapchat and Instagram, and Mia hadn’t been able to find Mark there.

  She scrolled over the grid displaying each of the friends. Uncle Doug, Brett, Aunt Nat…and then Mia came to another face she recognized. She let the tiny hand icon hover over the stamp-sized square. It showed the guy Scowly had asked her about.

  Craig Reynolds.

  That was his last name. Now she remembered, as if Scowly were right there, hissing in her ear. Mia shuddered.

  She clicked on the photo and got a to see what Craig shares, send him a friend request message, which she did. But there was a post on Craig’s public page that Mia could read. Someone named Flower, of all things, had written an update.

  Still no word from my boy. He’s never been gone this long before. If Craig contacts you, please! Tell him I need to hear from him ASAP. Another please! And then a number, an actual phone number. Posted right there on the home page for anyone to see.

  Mia’s stomach went even pricklier inside her. Her mom was acting like it was perfectly normal that Aunt Nat and Uncle Doug would be late getting back from their honeymoon—and Mia had almost bought it—but now a third person was missing too.

  Was Flower Craig’s mother? His girlfriend? Mia was leaning toward the former as she sent a text to the number on the screen.

  think i might have info 4 u abt craig

  A response came like two seconds later, a real live call. It was late, and Mia had put her phone on vibrate so her mother wouldn’t hear it if it rang.

  She slid her thumb across the screen and answered in a muted voice. “Hello?”

  A pause, then, “You’re so young! Oh Christ, you sound so young.”

  Flower had to be Craig’s mother. Mia felt a flush of success at having guessed right. “I’m thirteen,” she replied sharply.

  Silence.

  Mia felt the need to talk fast, prove she really had something to say. “Craig is friends with my uncle. Doug Larson.”

  “Doug?” Flower demanded. “Doug doesn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  “He just married my aunt,” Mia said.

  “Oh, right,” Flower said. “Makes sense. Sorry. My mind is just about blown
right now.”

  Mia wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry” was all she could come up with.

  “Where are you?” asked Flower suddenly. “Home with your parents?”

  “Well, my mom’s asleep,” Mia said. “She doesn’t know I’m calling. She doesn’t think there’s anything to be worried about.”

  “What are you worried about?” Flower asked.

  Mia realized she had better backtrack. “My uncle’s missing,” she explained. “Along with my aunt. At the very least, they’re late. And I guess your son is too?”

  There was silence over the phone, then the sound of a nose being blown loudly. “Jesus, what did you boys get yourselves mixed up in this time?” said Flower.

  “I don’t think they’re all together though,” Mia said. “I mean, my aunt and uncle are on their honeymoon.”

  Flower didn’t seem to absorb that. “The cops barely even agreed to take my report,” she told Mia. “Said a grown man can pretty much do what he wants, less there’s signs of…how did they put it? Foul play.”

  “Foul play,” Mia repeated. Scowly and his friend. They definitely seemed capable of something foul.

  “Little girl?” said Flower. “You still there?”

  “I’m here.” Mia took a deep breath, then told Flower about the men, how one of them had shown her a picture of Craig and demanded to know if she knew him.

  “Jesus Christ,” Flower said, almost whistling the words.

  Mia didn’t expect what happened next, but she burst out crying.

  “So why are you calling?” Flower asked when Mia’s tears finally started to subside. “I can’t help you find your aunt. I didn’t even know she existed till now.”

  “I don’t know,” Mia replied miserably. “I just thought maybe the reason my aunt and uncle haven’t come back yet has something to do with why your son’s gone too.”

  “They’ll be home soon,” Flower replied, her tone certain. “Craig always comes back. And I bet the same goes for your aunt and uncle. Those boys—Craig, Doug, all of ’em—well, they’re mixed-up breeds. Craig’s daddy was the same way. Hard to tie down, hard to keep straight. And real hard to walk away from.”