Wilderness Pursuit

by Michelle Karl

  “I’ve been praying all along,” she said, her voice growing soft. “But God’s not going to do all the hard work for us. We need to be smart and careful.”

  Her words made a lot of sense, and he appreciated the logic behind them. “I think the smart thing to do would be for you to grab the camera while I continue on to the horses, so we’ll be ready to go the instant we have the device in hand.”

  Kara narrowed her eyes at him and gestured at the length of her body. “Do you remember standing against the trailer’s back wall? My head came to just below the window ledge. I’m not sure I can reach that high without scraping the camera against the ledge as I pull it off. I’ve met the horses twice now, so maybe they’ll be okay with me.”

  As she spoke, one of the men inside thumped a glass bottle down onto the window ledge next to the camera. Sam hadn’t even thought about her height, but she was correct—it’d be too much of a reach if she tried to grab it. He’d have to do it and hope that the horses responded well to her.

  Raucous laughter came from within the trailer, and the pressure in Sam’s chest began to ease. If their enemies were finding solace from their misdeeds at the bottom of a bottle—or celebrating a perceived victory, namely the disposal of a certain meddlesome civilian-and-Mountie duo—it made his and Kara’s job that much easier. Tipsy bad guys were guaranteed to have reduced visual perception, less awareness and poorer judgment than if they were sober. And depending on how long the men had been indulging this particular vice, they might not even notice when he snatched the camera off the ledge.

  “We’ll press our backs to the wall,” he murmured, “just like we did on the other side. I’ll pull the camera down, but you should continue on to the horses. Speak softly, reassure them as you go inside and then start to untie the tethers. Get Brenik first. If we have to leave with only one of them, he’s larger and best equipped to handle both of us.”

  Kara gave him a thumbs-up and crept toward the trailer. As she pressed her back against the siding, Sam heard a rustle in the bushes nearby. A squirrel? Maybe a raccoon. He didn’t want to entertain the other possible notion—but the movement sounded again, louder, closer. It definitely came from a creature larger than a squirrel. He nudged Kara onward and flattened his back against the trailer beside her, taking step after careful step toward the open window.

  They bent low as they approached. Sam held his breath as Kara passed underneath the window, but there was no lull in the conversation or laughter inside. She glanced back, and he nodded at her to continue toward the horses. As she did, he positioned himself on the opposite side of the window ledge, fingers creeping up from underneath the projected edge of the sill. The camera lens faced outward, so all he needed to do was grab hold of the circular plastic and pull the device down into his arms. Anyone who saw the camera move from the inside of the trailer might think it had fallen off the ledge.

  Here goes, God, he said. Can you help Kara? I’ve got this.

  He wasn’t sure if that was the correct way to pray—he had a feeling that his childhood Sunday school teacher would have a thing or two to say about his theology—but right now he needed to focus on placing his fingers squarely around the lens and gripping it as tightly as possible.

  He lifted the camera and pulled it toward himself, relieved that the base didn’t make a scraping noise on the ledge as it moved. He refused to relax, though. At any moment, someone inside might notice the camera’s disappearance and come running out the front door.

  But once he had it tucked under his arm, no shouts came and no faces peered out the window, so Sam allowed himself a brief fist pump of celebration as he crept the rest of the way toward Kara and the horses. When he slid inside the shelter, she had Brenik untied and was working on Zephyr’s knot.

  “They didn’t retie these after we were in here,” she said. “I guess we did ourselves a favor during the earlier escape attempt, so it wasn’t a completely wasted effort.” She looked up at him with a small smile—the first real smile he’d seen from her in what felt like ages—and his heart skipped a beat. The unbidden reaction caused a flare of alarm to rise in his gut. This was no time for his emotions to barge in and take over. He needed all of his energy focused on getting them out of there as fast as possible.

  He pulled his eyes away from her searching gaze and softly cleared his throat. “Need help with the last knot?” She nodded and he handed her the camera. “Is that going to be too unwieldy to carry?”

  “As soon as there’s time, I’ll remove the memory card. I hate to lose the camera, but it’s not like we have the luxury of carting around cumbersome gear right now. Plus, I always have a waterproof case on me for memory cards or extra storage when I head out to a dig site. There’s a case in one of these zippered pockets on my pants.” She slipped the strap over her head so it hung across her neck and shoulder, then froze. “Did you hear that?”

  He swallowed hard. He had heard it. The rustling that had turned into soft, padding footsteps. The horses had heard it, too, and begun to shuffle their feet, swinging their heads from side to side and muttering complaints. “Get on the horse, Kara.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me. Get on now.”

  She swung up as he pulled the final loop to free Zephyr. He mounted Brenik and patted the animal’s neck, murmuring reassurance that was as much for himself as it was for the horse. Brenik’s eyes were wide, and his ears swiveled in all directions. Then they heard a low growl and grunt-like snuffles, far too close for comfort. The horses began to squeal and swing their heads more aggressively.

  “Go on, Kara!” He didn’t bother to keep his voice down. They’d run out of time for stealth. “Travel straight down the path from the trailer into the trees, and don’t stop for anything. Move!”

  She dug in her heels, and Zephyr shot forward out of the shelter and into the darkness. With a frantic prayer and a desperate hope that they hadn’t taken too long to get out of there, Sam instructed Brenik to follow.

  The moment he passed the threshold of the shelter, he saw it: a massive brown grizzly bear. And it was headed straight for him.

  * * *

  Terror ripped through every inch of Kara’s body as the grizzly bear’s roar echoed through the trailer’s small clearing. Lord, please let Sam escape. I know you have a greater plan in all this.

  As she reached the edge of the trees—barely visible in the depth of the night and the pale moonlight overhead—she couldn’t help but pull Zephyr to a halt and look back, searching for a sign of Sam.

  She couldn’t see him, but what she could see filled her with even greater fear. The front door of the trailer banged open and five men poured out, yelling and waving long rifles. Their silhouettes were illuminated by the light from inside. Why would they leave the safety of their trailer like that? Clearly the men had had too much to drink, because only terrible judgment would cause them to willingly face a grizzly.

  Sam, where are you?

  The bear roared and reared up on its hind legs, undoubtedly drawn to the trailer by the scent of food on her and Sam’s clothes. It seemed furious to have come face-to-face with a threat instead of an easy dinner. Her heart lurched for the bear’s well-being. The beast was only trying to survive the best way it knew how.

  She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of a gunshot and another roar. At least one of the men began to scream. “Not Sam,” she breathed into the night air, surprising herself at the vehemence of her words. “Please. Not Sam.”

  The thunder of hooves stilled further words on her tongue. Sam and Brenik flew into view and barely slowed as he waved her on. “Go, Kara! Go!” She didn’t hesitate but took off and heard him following behind.

  “Slide into the woods up here,” he said, “at that gap in the trees. We need to get into the thick of the forest where it’s hard for their ATVs to follow.”

  “ATVs? You think they’re going to—” O
nce again, the words died before she completed her thought. The buzz of small engines turning over sounded between the peppered gunshots. The bear roared again, and she couldn’t help it—she offered up a quick prayer for the creature’s safety.

  Sam appeared next to her, and his hand brushed her shoulder, bridging the gap between the two horses. “The bear is going to be okay, Kara. Those men are drunk and it’s dark. It’s no easy feat to take down a grizzly even when you’re a solid shot, so don’t worry. And when we get back to town, I’ll call the wildlife authorities so they can send a team out here. If the bear is wounded, there are steps we can take.”

  “Even if it has attacked a person?”

  Sam growled under his breath, sounding a little like the grizzly himself. “I didn’t see it attack anyone, did you?”

  She thought about it and couldn’t truthfully say she had. And Sam’s insistence on making sure a wild predator was all right, a grizzly bear no less, caused a bubble of warmth to spread inside her heart. Who was this man, this person who cared more deeply for living beings than...well, than anyone she’d met before? Even in the dark, she didn’t miss how he scratched Brenik behind the ears, murmuring to the horse in a way that went far beyond master to beast. He loved his horse like a colleague, a companion, and he wasn’t afraid to show it in front of others. It was sweet and kind of beautiful.

  At that sudden realization, she was grateful that the colors on her face were hidden by the shadows of night, because otherwise he would have seen how her cheeks turned pink as they flooded with heat. Would she have done things differently when they were younger, if she’d known what kind of a man Sam would become? Perhaps. Did she wish she hadn’t burned that bridge between them when she called him out on his lack of ambition and then stomped all over his heart? Of course she did. If she could go back in time, she’d have taken a gentler approach, a more compassionate tone with the man she’d claimed to love. No, it hadn’t been a claim—she had loved him. She just hadn’t shown it very well.

  Beneath her, Zephyr stumbled and snorted but recovered quickly. She swallowed hard on the lump in her throat, her fear returning at the sight of nothing before them but deep, dark forest.

  “You should go ahead of me,” she said to Sam. “You’re the more experienced rider, and Brenik seems very much in tune with you. I don’t want to lead Zephyr wrong and risk injuring her, especially with all the debris around from the storm.”

  Sam nodded and drew ahead as she pulled back on Zephyr’s reins. “Good call. I haven’t heard the ATVs since we entered the trees, and frankly they’d be foolish to try following us through the forest in the dark. Then again, foolishness seems to be their specialty. Come on, we’re going to need to step carefully and keep our voices down in case they decide to come after us.”

  She didn’t miss the hesitance in his voice, the unspoken words. It wasn’t a matter of if Gaida Industries came after them, but when.

  And whether it took five minutes or five hours before they heard the rumble of engines chasing after them, it would be too soon.

  EIGHT

  Adrenaline kept Kara upright for the first leg of their journey, but the combination of darkness, exhaustion from the events of the past day and a half plus the lack of food and water was making her head fuzzy. She felt her body begin to tilt forward in the saddle as her eyelids drooped. The occasional shriek of a nocturnal creature or an owl’s hoot would startle her to full wakefulness for a time, but eventually she couldn’t keep her eyes open for a second longer.

  Maybe I can close them for just a minute...

  And then she slid sideways.

  “Oh!” She grabbed for the pommel, hands flailing as she squeezed her legs tighter in an effort to right herself. Her palm slapped against the rise on the saddle, its surface providing just enough grip for her to make it the rest of the way upright by engaging her core strength. She guided Zephyr to a halt, breathing heavily as she pressed her hands against the saddle’s leather surface to calm her shaking limbs.

  “What happened?” Sam called softly over his shoulder, his voice easily carrying back to her. “Are you all right? Do you need help?”

  “Yes, I’m all right...” But she wasn’t, not really. “I think I need to rest. Or find water. I almost fell out of the saddle, and my head is pounding.” The moment the words left her lips, she wanted to take them back—after all, she hadn’t been knocked out twice in less than twenty-four hours. If either of them had the right to complain about their head, it was Sam, but he hadn’t said a thing about it yet. “Are you all right? You’ve been pushing harder than me by leading, but you’ve taken multiple blows. How are you still standing?”

  “Sitting,” he said with a humorless chuckle. “And I feel like garbage, too, trust me. I’m trying to take a roundabout way back toward the dig site, a route that wouldn’t be obvious to the Gaida Industries guys, but it’s getting harder and harder to navigate. That last bit of light we had to the north is gone, so orienting ourselves is becoming a challenge.”

  “I didn’t even think that we’d take a different route back to the site, but I guess that makes sense. Less predictable.”

  “Exactly. Are you sure you’re all right to continue? If you need a minute—” A light flashed in the distance, between the trees. Sam fell silent and Kara squinted into the gloom, wondering if she was seeing things. Seconds later the light flashed again, wobbling between gaps in the trees—and then, as if drawn by their murmured voices, they heard the whiny buzz of a small engine.

  “Guess we don’t have a minute after all.” Kara wrapped the reins tighter around her hands. She met Sam’s eyes and found no comfort in the hard set of his jaw. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, especially if navigation was becoming troublesome. “But they can’t hear us over the sound of those engines, right? We can slip away.”

  Sam said nothing, but matched her gaze for a moment before flicking his chin toward the trees. He directed Brenik to travel between several narrow gaps, hiding their bodies as much as possible from being illuminated by ATV headlights. Kara followed behind, her heart pounding as they crept through the brush—sometimes they moved quickly. At other times Sam led them at such a slow pace that it felt almost painful. By necessity, there were also moments of stopping and starting as the horses picked their way around debris and obstructions. With every tick of the clock, the ATVs seemed to grow closer and closer. What would happen if they caught up? Would Gaida Industries even bother trying to redirect the blame for their deaths? She suspected they’d follow through with what she’d assumed to be their original plan and cart her and Sam farther north to dispose of their bodies. Or maybe just knock them out and leave them outside the trailer for the bear to find, and then dump their remains at the dig site afterward. The thought turned her stomach. Regardless of the method, their deaths were bound to be messy and traumatic.

  Suddenly, Brenik halted. She glanced at Sam and thought she saw a flicker of worry cross his face—but maybe she was seeing things in the darkness. “Everything all right?”

  Sam held up his hand, the starlight’s reflection on his skin a pale contrast to the deep night around them. “Get ready to run. I think I see a break in the trees ahead. Hoping it’s an animal trail.”

  And before she had the chance to ask him to clarify his meaning, Brenik started moving again.

  A light flashed through the trees as a gunshot cracked the air.

  “Giddy-up,” Sam commanded, kicking his heels against Brenik, but the horse had already taken flight, intuiting his master’s intentions.

  She gave the same command to Zephyr, who gave a nervous shudder beneath her and then took off matching the other horse’s gait. They followed close behind Sam and Brenik, who set a rapid pace, and Kara’s stomach felt as if it had floated upward to hover inside her throat. How could Sam see where they were going at this clip? One misstep and the horses were done for, one low-hanging
branch he didn’t see and both of them were in serious trouble. But Sam seemed to have found a tight, linear route, possibly used by wolves or deer, and the whine of the ATVs dropped to a hum as the horses pulled ahead.

  Soon, they didn’t hear the ATVs at all, but Sam kept their little convoy moving at a brisk pace. Just when she thought they might run all night, Zephyr began to slow. The horse started breathing heavily, almost panting. She considered reminding Sam that the animals hadn’t had anything to drink all day, but all of a sudden, the forest opened up around them. They’d broken through the trees and entered another clearing, this one a little smaller than the space taken up by the old trailer. In the center sat a quaint log cabin. It looked about the size of an inflatable bouncy castle—but far sturdier.

  “Did you know this was here?” she murmured, pulling Zephyr alongside Sam. “Maybe the people staying here have a working phone or radio and can call for help.”

  Sam sighed. “I don’t think we’re going to find anyone inside. Look at the windows—one’s been smashed and the other one is boarded up. And the exterior is in rough shape.”

  “Another hunting camp?”

  “That’s my guess. This was probably a seasonal home, maybe semipermanent from the looks of it. Look at the walls—those are logs, and if I had to guess, I’d say they were cut right from the space where the cabin now sits. It fits perfectly into this space and would make a great hideaway for someone waiting for animals to walk by. I wonder how it’ll look in broad daylight.”

  Hopefully more inviting than it looked right now, Kara thought. “The outside shutters aren’t closed up for the season, though. Think there’s food and water inside? Maybe the residents left unexpectedly and thought they’d be back to winterize the place, but never got around to it.”

  Sam slid off Brenik and led the horse toward the front porch.

  Hesitant but reassured by his confidence, Kara dismounted and waited a moment while Sam secured their rides in place so that they wouldn’t startle and bolt into the woods.