Wilderness Pursuit

by Michelle Karl

  “Don’t do this, Mike. Fire me from the project, if you want. I can keep my mouth shut. Taking our lives isn’t the answer. If any of this points back to you and the company, you’ll all go down for it. Is that what you want? To be labeled a murderer and a cop killer? There will be no leniency for any of you.”

  Mike’s lips twisted in a sneer. “You think I don’t know that? I’m not stupid, Ms. Park. Gaida Industries isn’t stupid. I have my instructions. Tie ’em up, boys.”

  “Wait!” Kara shouted and looked frantically toward Sam, praying he had a plan to get them out of this, only to see one of Mike’s goons swing the butt of a handgun at Sam’s head. “No!”

  Too late. Sam crumpled and she lunged for him, only to have someone grab her arms and twist her wrists behind her back. The crackle of a plastic zip tie cut through her protests, and she felt the unfiled material dig into her skin. She dropped to her knees to try escaping her captor’s grasp—could she roll away, get up and run for help?—but the moment her legs touched earth, rough fabric was shoved in her mouth and more ties bound around her ankles. Immediately, a coarse, tight sheet slipped over her head and shrouded her in darkness. Someone pulled it tightly from behind, securing the covering in place. She couldn’t see, cry out or take a full breath.

  She concentrated on inhaling and exhaling through her nose, trying to calm her racing pulse—until careless hands grabbed her from behind. She felt herself hoisted and carried over someone’s shoulder like a sack of produce, and although she tried to beat her hands and legs against her captor, the man didn’t flinch.

  And then she was airborne for a split second before her tailbone hit solid ground, knocking the wind from her lungs. Another thud, directly next to her, suggested that Sam had been subjected to the same treatment. Where were they? What was the foreman planning? Why hadn’t Mike simply shot them both where they stood?

  Help me stay calm, Lord, she prayed. Be with Sam. If he’s injured, I don’t know how we’ll both get out of this.

  Not that she had any clue how they’d escape even if he wasn’t injured.

  The ground started to rumble—no, not the ground. They were moving. In some kind of cart or trailer, judging by the hollow sound of the space around her. They’re taking us somewhere remote to kill us. Someplace they can’t be traced, out in the middle of nowhere. Where a body can be buried and remain undiscovered for centuries.

  If anyone knew a thing or two about undiscovered burials, it was her, and the deep wilds of British Columbia were the perfect place to dispose of her and Sam’s bodies. Their captors only needed to transport them a few more hours north, find a secluded cave or ravine, fire off a few well-placed rounds...

  She gasped and flinched at a sudden pressure against her back. She scooted forward, trying to get away—and then stopped at the sound of a low groan. She tried to speak Sam’s name, but with the gag in her mouth, the word came out as a muffled grunt. Using her tied-up feet as leverage, she pushed backward until her shoulders bumped against Sam.

  Almost immediately, his fingers found hers. Was he trying to hold her hand? No, of course not. His fingers trailed upward from the center of her palm toward the zip ties. From the pressure around her wrist, it felt like he was trying to pull the ties off or loosen them, but they’d been yanked so tightly that every tug from Sam forced the plastic to dig farther into her skin.

  I have a better idea, she thought, then scooted forward just far enough so that she could slide her head and shoulders down Sam’s spine, toward the floor, until the back of the suffocating fabric around her head rested against his hands. Even if the hood had somehow been secured with a zip tie, she thought Sam might be able to loosen or tear the fabric and pull it away. Sam got the idea immediately. The pressure against her face and throat gave way, bringing momentary relief. Sam pulled the fabric away as she sat up. The moment the offensive material was off her face, she spat the gag out and scooted back to help Sam. She easily found the elastic band that had been sloppily wound around the excess fabric at the back of their hoods and yanked it off. Sam sat up and spat out his own gag, then turned to face her. An angry purple welt had begun to form at his right temple, and a small trail of blood descended from a wound above his eyebrow.

  The hope she’d felt at freeing her eyes and mouth vanished as soon as he met her gaze.

  “Sam,” she whispered. “What can we do? Is there anything in your pocket we can use to cut the zip ties? I had my archaeological trowel on my belt when we got to the site, but it’s gone now. It must have fallen off.”

  He shook his head with a grimace. “I had a utility knife, my Taser and my standard-issue gun, but they took my vest and belt before tossing me in here. All my gear is gone. Are you all right?”

  “Besides being betrayed by the people who hired me and who are inevitably carting us into the woods to kill us? Peachy.” She swallowed the tremor in her last word as heat built behind her eyes. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be combative. This is neither the time nor the place. But I’m scared. I don’t want to panic, but it’s getting hard.”

  His mouth drew into a tight line as he visually examined the enclosed space. It wasn’t big, maybe large enough to transport a ride-on mower or a large stack of firewood. They were seated on a wooden floor, with metal walls closing them in on each side and above. The door in front of them, the only exit, was made of one solid metal panel.

  “I think the door must pull down to form a ramp,” Sam said. “Which means we’ll need to put pressure at the top, or as high as we can. Maybe we can bang against it and get it to drop.”

  “You don’t think they’ll hear that and come for us?” Fear crept up the back of Kara’s throat, and she tried to force it back down. “I really don’t want that disgusting rag back in my mouth. Or want to give them an excuse to kill us outright.”

  “There’s got to be a reason they haven’t done it yet,” Sam murmured. With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself across the cart toward the door. “Help me on the right. If we lie on our backs and slam our feet against the door as high as we can, maybe we can weaken the latch.”

  “And if it’s locked?”

  Sam narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you have a better idea?”

  She didn’t. Heart pounding, she shimmied across the floor and joined Sam at the door. The metal would surely make a massive racket as soon as they started banging against it, but they couldn’t very well sit around and do nothing.

  “On three,” Sam said. “Use your heels. Hopefully the latch isn’t brand-new or well maintained.”

  He spoke with such confidence that her rapidly beating heart slowed its pace. If Sam felt assured of their escape, so should she. He was an RCMP officer now, after all.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready.” She took a deep breath, pulled her legs back and waited for Sam’s signal.

  “Three...two...one...go!”

  Bang! Their heels slammed into the metal door, creating such a racket that Kara’s eardrums began to protest. Over and over they smashed their feet against it, but Kara’s legs quickly tired from the exertion and reduced circulation. As tingles crept up her legs, a sense of futility began to encroach on her borrowed confidence.

  “There!” Sam shouted. She almost told him to keep his voice down, but what was the point? If their captors had heard the bangs against the door, it wasn’t as if speaking quietly would make a difference. “Did you feel that? I think it budged. Look at the frame, we’re bending the metal and putting pressure on the latch.”

  She hadn’t noticed, but looking at it, she saw the slight indent from their efforts. “But that’s hardly enough. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.” Her arms had started to grow numb from being trapped beneath her while on her back. At this rate, she’d be useless even if they did manage to escape.

  “We’re so close, Kara. Don’t give up.”

  Easy for him
to say. Lord, give me strength. She wound up and continued to slam her feet on the door, again and again, and to her utter surprise the indent grew larger and larger with every strike. Sam was right—they’d weakened the integrity of the door and the latch, meaning the hardest work was behind them. Aside from actually making their escape.

  “Next hit takes it down,” Sam said through gritted teeth, and they both struck the metal at the same time. The top of the door fell open and banged against the ground, forming a ramp down which they could flee into the woods. They both twisted their bodies to sit upright, ready to slide down the ramp to freedom. As soon as they sat up, every hope was instantly dashed.

  Foreman Mike and two of his goons stood outside the cart, strategically positioned far back enough not to get hit when the door fell open. They’d clearly been waiting for the ramp to drop and didn’t look happy about it. The two men on each side of Mike trained handguns on Kara and Sam.

  When had the cart stopped moving? She’d been so focused on getting the door open that she hadn’t even noticed, and judging by the hard set of Sam’s jaw, neither had he.

  Sam pulled his shoulders back and dipped his chin, and Kara was surprised to recognize the gesture even after all these years. The man was worried and dismayed, and trying hard not to show it.

  “And just what were you hoping to accomplish, here?” Mike said, spreading his palms wide. The man’s incredulity bordered on laughter. “You’re still tied up. Were you going to roll down the ramp like logs and then inch along the ground like worms? Do the crabwalk for thirty-five kilometers back to civilization?”

  Thirty-five kilometers? Were they really that far from town? The pipeline site was just over twenty kilometers from Fort Mason. She wanted to say something smart and snarky, something that would rip that smug grin from the foreman’s face, but since Sam had chosen to remain silent, she thought better of it. He was no longer the fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants teenager she’d fallen in love with until his flighty approach to life had made her realize that they’d simply never be able to make it work—especially when he’d asked her to give up her dreams of becoming an archaeologist to stay in northern British Columbia for him. A boy who hadn’t even had his own dreams when they were together. But now, he’d learned to take charge and make plans, or at least that’s what he claimed. Maybe he had a plan right now to get them out of this.

  She glanced at him again, hopeful. He turned his chin slightly, but refused to meet her eyes.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “That’s all I’ve got.”

  * * *

  Sam scanned their surroundings as Mike continued to berate them and insult their intelligence. The man had a point—Sam should have noticed that the cart had stopped moving, but he and Kara had been so intent on getting the ramp to drop that they’d ceased paying attention to everything else happening around them. It wasn’t unusual for people to do in times of crisis, but he hadn’t expected it’d happen to him. His brothers were going to be so disappointed in him when he told them the story. If he ever got the chance.

  No, he couldn’t think like that. When he got the chance. They were going to get out of this, recover Zephyr and Brenik and all get back to town in one piece. He hoped that the horses weren’t too frightened and that they’d been treated with care. He didn’t hear them nearby and refused to entertain the notion of a worst-case scenario. Even the foreman wouldn’t be as blind as to dispose of RCMP horses—they were massive, impeccably trained, high-value animals that could go for a considerable sum of money to a willing buyer on a livestock black market.

  “Good thing for you two,” Mike said, “is that we’re almost at our destination, so you won’t have time to mount another escape and I don’t need to knock you both out. However, I suggest you scoot to the back of the cart for the remainder of the journey. These guys next to me, the ones holding the deadly weapons? Yeah, they’ll be pulling their ATVs up behind. Any funny business and they have orders to stop you by any means necessary.”

  Sam didn’t like the way the men’s faces lit up at the suggestion of violence. Where had Gaida Industries found the kinds of hires who got their kicks from the prospect of hurting another person? The men didn’t even look a bit nervous at the idea of harming a government contractor, let alone a law enforcement professional. That was perhaps the most surprising part of this encounter. Just how much were these goons being paid, anyway?

  Mike made a “shoo” gesture with both hands, as if he and Kara were children who couldn’t follow directions. Sam felt Kara’s gaze on his face and intuited the question he’d read there if he turned his eyes to meet hers—but until he had a better idea of where they were going and what they were dealing with, he didn’t have an answer for her.

  “Sam?” she whispered.

  He didn’t respond but slid backward, deeper into the cart. After a moment’s hesitation, she did the same, her stare burning a hole in the side of his head. As soon as they were resituated, the foreman nodded at the two men, who quickly disappeared around the side of the vehicle. A minute later, the buzz of small engines filled the air and the men returned on high-powered ATVs. Mike traded off his position with one of the armed guards. Flashing a self-satisfied smile, the foreman sauntered away to return to the front of the convoy.

  The cart lurched into motion as their mobile prison started moving once again.

  “At least they didn’t gag us a second time,” Kara muttered. “But now what? I don’t think they plan to keep us around for very long once we get to wherever we’re going.”

  “I don’t want to agree with you, but I do.” He didn’t intend to scare her, but still wanted to stay realistic. And reality said that he and Kara had been allowed to see everyone’s faces, so Gaida Industries had no intention of keeping them around or cutting a deal. “We can’t do anything until our legs are free. But since they didn’t regag us or put the blindfolds back on, I have a feeling that they think we’re far enough from civilization that us trying to run off again won’t be a problem. They have ATVs and our horses, after all.”

  “The foreman said we’re thirty-five kilometers from civilization. Do you think that’s correct?”

  “That depends on your definition of civilization. Thirty-five kilometers from Fort Mason, though? Maybe.” He glanced at Kara, who stared at him with a blank expression. “I was making a joke, Kara.”

  “At a time like this?”

  He sighed. “If not now, when? Look, you’re probably right. If we sit around and do nothing, we’re in trouble. But if we panic or allow fear to paralyze us, we’re just as doomed. ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you—not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.’ Isn’t that the verse?”

  “You remember that?”

  “Of course I do.” From Sunday school lessons that had been drilled into his head time and time again as a kid. Did he actually believe it? Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. Intellectually, he was well aware that using God as a convenient crutch during times of difficulty was no way to live his life, but on the other hand...giving up total control and trusting God for every little thing seemed like too much. As someone who’d lived the first half of his life just coasting by without a plan in the world, the idea of willingly living his life according to “God’s plan,” whatever that meant, was both scary and unappealing. Plus, he’d found his place with the RCMP and thereby proved Kara wrong about his inability to make future plans and then act on them, so he had a pretty good handle on things...didn’t he?

  I proved her wrong. The realization shot through him like a jolt of adrenaline. Was that what had motivated him to join the RCMP in the first place, and not a sense of duty to his family’s legacy or even a ripened maturity? Had he let someone else’s expectations control his life’s trajectory after all? That was a thought path he didn’t want to go down right now.

  Kara bowed her he
ad, and Sam’s heart constricted. “I wish I could say my heart isn’t troubled, but all things considered...”

  The cart came to a sudden stop, and Sam had to fight to keep from tipping over. Kara’s gaze whipped to his and he held it, trying hard not to betray the emotions beginning to roil around his insides. He was still angry at her...wasn’t he? He’d been done with her and her judgmental words about his approach to life years ago...hadn’t he? He no longer felt anything for her, no lingering romantic inclinations...did he?

  No, romance was the furthest thing from his mind. But the familiarity of her presence had unlocked a door he’d kept hidden inside his heart and hadn’t been eager to ever open again. Now here she was eighteen years after their less-than-amiable breakup, staring at him with anxiety and fear, trusting him to find a way out of a hopeless situation.

  He swallowed his doubts and faced the open door. He was a trained Mountie, a respected member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and he’d pledged to defend this country and its people, including Kara. Regardless of their shared past, regardless of the oddity of the present.

  The men on ATVs parked their vehicles close behind the cart and climbed off with their weapons drawn. Mike appeared once again and waved the men closer.

  “You boys have permits for those?” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes at the weapons—though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. Handgun permits were outrageously difficult to obtain in Canada, and even if somebody was able to get one, carrying a handgun around unsecured was highly illegal. The simple act of moving that type of weapon from one place to another required a specific “authorization to transport” designation from the provincial chief firearms officer. One of the men shifted his weight and looked away for a fraction of a second. Great. So he could add possession of illegal firearms to the list of charges. And figuring out where the weapons came from, who’d sold them without the necessary permits...well, that wasn’t in his wheelhouse, but Sam, Leo or another RCMP officer could handle it. He mentally filed away the information for later.