Wilderness Pursuit

by Michelle Karl

  “No idea, but it won’t hurt to check.” He took quick, light steps up the porch, but even so, the boards creaked under his weight. “I’m banking on there at least being a cellar with some stocked emergency provisions. If we’re really fortunate, some of the stuff will still be edible, too.”

  “Are you sure we’re safe to stop?” Kara glanced around. “I don’t think I’ve heard the ATVs for a while, but I’m getting jumpy at every noise.”

  “It’s been at least an hour, if not more. They’re off our trail for now, but we should stay alert. They’ve got to be just as tired as we are, and it’s even more dangerous to be driving an ATV in the dark while exhausted.”

  “And will the horses be all right out here? What if another bear comes roaming around?”

  Sam bumped her with his shoulder and then gripped the handle of the front door. “We’ve been riding through the woods and haven’t been all that quiet about it. I think we have some time, and besides, we’re going inside. It should block any remaining smells.”

  Kara still couldn’t shake her worst-case fears. “Or maybe there’s a bear living in there. A place like this would make a great den.”

  “I don’t remember your imagination always being so wild,” he said, the hint of a smile creeping across his face.

  “I’ve never had my life threatened on an almost hourly basis before,” she mused. “We learn who we are under pressure.”

  He paused and stared at her for a moment, and it looked like he wanted to say something—but then changed his mind and turned the door handle. It didn’t move. He looked back at her again, shrugged and slammed his shoulder against the door. It cracked and shifted. He hit it a third time and it swung inward, opening onto a pitch-black room that smelled like pine and musty, decaying leaves.

  “Ladies first,” he said, and Kara held back a groan. “I know, I know. Not exactly the time for joking around. But it made you smile, didn’t it?”

  Her fingers flew to her lips, and she realized that she was, in fact, smiling. And she felt a tiny bit better because of it, but she had an inkling that it had more to do with them finding a place to rest, to potentially take a break from the day’s relentless pursuit, than it did with Sam’s teasing.

  “All right,” she said, gathering up her confidence. She stared into the darkness. Were those footsteps? Did she hear a creature snuffling about? They needed to pause before exhaustion forced them into full stop, and if she had to brave some woodland creatures to do so...well, better to rest among creepy-crawlies than to end up as dinner for a predator—animal or human. She took a step forward and glanced back at Sam, whose eyes widened with astonishment at her initiative. “Into the lion’s den.”

  * * *

  Sam hadn’t expected Kara to actually enter the cabin before him, but he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d shown her strength many times over already, and yet he continued to underestimate her. He needed to stop doing that.

  Once inside the cabin, he ran his hand along the wall next to the door, searching for a light source. He hadn’t expected to find a switch—a place like this wouldn’t be wired for electricity—but he’d hoped there might be a lamp or a battery-operated overhead light. Even a flashlight would do.

  With a whoosh, moonbeams streamed into the room. He spun around to see Kara at one of the windows, curtains pulled back, pale white-yellow light illuminating her features. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. And here he’d thought she couldn’t look more beautiful. He’d been wrong.

  “What is it?” she said, sensing his gaze. He shook his head, unable to find the words. “Are you having second thoughts about stopping? I still don’t hear those vehicles buzzing anymore.”

  He hadn’t heard it for a while either, which made him even more certain that they’d managed to dodge their pursuers for the time being. And he hadn’t meant to find this place—he’d accidentally stumbled across the cabin because he’d lost track of where they were headed in the darkness. Hopefully that meant that their pursuers would have to do the same.

  He walked the circumference of the cabin, taking in the look and shape of the space. A small kitchenette at the back had a stainless steel tub, an unplugged icebox, a portable camping stove without a gas cylinder and several empty shelving units. An empty plastic water jug sat under the sink, covered in dust. The evidence showed that no one had been here for a while, but Kara might have been right. Whoever owned the place seemed to have left in a hurry, assuming they’d return, and never did. Perhaps during the time when hunting regulations had shifted? This kind of small, one-room cabin was designed to be a secluded hideaway right next to a known animal trail, perfect for a hunter who had the patience to sit and wait for his prey. Sam suspected there’d be at least one well-concealed hunter’s blind near or around the house—which he also hoped none of the Gaida Industries contractors knew about or were familiar enough with to work to their advantage.

  “I think we’ll be all right for a little while, at least.”

  “Do you know where we are?”

  He wasn’t about to lie to her. “No, I don’t, not specifically. I do know that we’re a lot farther from Fort Mason than we should be, or than I’d like to be. That trail took us way off track, but it was either follow the trail or risk having the ATVs catch up to us. I know the forest around Fort Mason very well—several kilometers in every direction, at least—but I didn’t even know this place existed.”

  Kara nodded slowly. “So we let the horses rest for a few minutes and then get moving.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I had enough trouble keeping Brenik safe in the lead, and it’s only by the grace of God that we made it here in one piece. I honestly don’t know where we are, Kara, and I fear that attempting to get back to town in the dark is asking for trouble.”

  “Grace of God?” she peered at him under heavy lashes. “You sure about that?”

  “I haven’t forgotten everything.” He had to pull away from her scrutinizing gaze. “Look, you might as well get some rest. I’ll stay awake. It’s not a good idea for us both to fall asleep—we have people and bears in pursuit, after all—but there’s no need for two of us to be exhausted. There might be some musty blankets lying around somewhere.” He scanned the room and saw the moonlight glinting off the metal frame of a small cot in a far corner. “Over there, Kara. Go lie down.”

  She ran her hands through her hair, lips pursed. “You think I’m going to go lie down and rest when you’re the one who’s been knocked unconscious? Twice!”

  “I’m fine, and let’s face it, you’re the one who was falling off her horse from exhaustion a little while ago.”

  “Sam, we wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me. I’m not going to relax while there are still people hunting for us.”

  “Wouldn’t be here?” He took a step toward her. “Kara, are you still blaming yourself for what’s happened? What about our truce? We already shook on not doing that. You’ve got to stop it. You’re not responsible for the actions of those men. If you hadn’t come to the site early, they’d have found some other way to bribe you, pressure you or hurt you to force compliance. And if not you, someone else. We overheard them say as much back at the trailer. At least you have someone on your side who’s here with you—who was able to come to your aid and who cares about your well-being.”

  She lowered her eyes and seemed to dissolve before him, sinking to the floor until she sat cross-legged with her elbows on her knees. “I’m so sorry.”

  What was she talking about? “Sorry? For what?” He knelt in front of her and reached for her hands, but she pulled away and wrapped her hands around her neck, fingers kneading the skin as if attempting to relieve tension. “Kara, there is nothing about this situation for which you need to apologize.”

  She began to nod, furious, small movements that alarmed him to his core. He reached for her chin
and she slapped his hand away—but their gazes caught. Even in the darkness, he didn’t miss the wetness on her cheeks, the redness of her eyes.

  “We’re going to die, Sam. And it’s my fault. If I hadn’t...if I hadn’t come here at all...no, that’s not it. Sam, if I hadn’t ended things the way that I did...”

  “It’s ancient history, Kara. Older than the things you dig up. We’re adults now, the past is the past and it has no bearing on the present.”

  “But that’s just it, Sam. It does.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Clearly, you felt like you had something to prove after I ended things with you. After I called you lazy and said you lacked ambition, that you wouldn’t amount to anything...among other worse insults. You can’t tell me that if I hadn’t said those things, you’d still be here. Right now. In that uniform. You always told me that you’d never, ever follow your father’s and your brothers’ path, and yet here you are. I’ve seen it on your face multiple times today—you’re not sure we’re going to make it. At least once you were certain we were going to die. How can you not resent me for putting you in this position?”

  “But we didn’t die, Kara. We didn’t and we won’t, and that’s because of you. What if, for example, I’d been captured with a different archaeologist and put in the same situations? Your unique life experience means you had the knowledge we needed to escape, multiple times. Someone else might not have had that information. You didn’t put my life in danger, Kara. You’ve saved it, over and over today and in the past. If you hadn’t called me out like that, if you hadn’t laid down the truth I needed to hear—even though it hurt at the time—who knows how my life might have ended up. I might have become a junkie, like my uncle. Or an alcoholic, like so many aimless young men.”

  Her shuddering sigh burned a hole in his heart. “Or maybe not. If I hadn’t said anything, maybe you’d have discovered your true passion and not ended up in a job you never wanted in a part of the province you were desperate to escape. There’s no excuse for the way I ended our relationship, Sam. You loved me, and I didn’t appreciate that. I thought I loved you, but clearly I was deluding myself or I wouldn’t have treated you that way.”

  Her words slammed against him, harder than any punch or kick or pistol whip to the back of the head. He had loved her more than he thought he could ever love anyone again, and he’d never recovered. In all those years, no one else had come close to the memory of Kara. “I thought you loved me, too.” Tears flooded her face, running in rivers down her cheeks—and although Sam tried to fight it, blinking over and over to stop the tide, his own wave of emotion crested and spilled over. “Are you trying to say that what we had wasn’t real? That it was never real?”

  She heaved a shuddering sigh. “I thought about you, Sam. Over and over, I regretted my behavior, but it was too late. The damage had already been done, you already hated me. I’d closed that door with my shortsighted selfishness.”

  “You had a dream. I held you back with my lack of one. It took me a long time to see and understand that, but I never hated you.”

  “We could have found a way to work it out. I didn’t even want to try.”

  “We were too young, Kara. I don’t know that it would have worked out even if we’d tried.” He wiped the back of his hand across his face, but the effort to dry off was unsuccessful. He wished he had a towel to offer her. Her cheeks were smeared with black lines of remnant makeup from the night before. “And please believe me when I say that if I harbored any bitterness toward you, any anger throughout the years at the memory of us, seeing you again...well, it’s been eye-opening, to say the least.”

  She frowned and copied his gesture, but she only succeeded in smearing the lines of black makeup even farther. For some reason, it made her look even more adorable—vulnerable somehow, even though he knew she was fully capable of taking care of herself. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.” A chuckle escaped. “Look, when we were young, we were on fire for each other and on fire for God. That faith, and the church community we were involved in, helped me to move on after you left me behind. I had a great support group, people who came alongside me and helped me to understand that I wasn’t angry at you, I was angry at myself because you’d spoken the truth and I didn’t know how to deal with that. Has it taken a long time to forgive you? Yes, but that’s my own failing. Not yours. Forgiveness has to come from inside the head and the heart, and when it comes to you, Kara...there’s a lot going on inside me. Feelings I don’t understand. Some I’m not sure I want to. You make me feel like that eighteen-year-old kid again, desperate to prove that I’m not a total loser, that I really can make something of myself.

  “Seeing you again, Kara, makes me want to be a better man for you, and I’m not sure what to do with that or what it means, but there you have it. None of this is your fault. You can’t blame the past or the present on yourself, and the only thing you can control is the future. For example, we decide what happens next. We control what we’re going to do together to face this situation we’re in. Understand?”

  She nodded, and it wasn’t until she looked up at him again that he believed she’d actually listened and heard, and was maybe taking his words to heart.

  “Okay,” she said, and clapped her hands together. “Okay. I hear you. It’s going to take me a while to process this, but I hear you.”

  His heart tightened, squeezing inside his chest. And then, as if in slow motion, Kara leaned toward him. Their faces moved closer together as heat built in the charged air between them.

  It was a bad idea. He needed to stop it, but the part of him that felt eighteen again wanted to let it happen—wanted to feel her closer to him, wanted to offer comfort, wanted to dwell on all those reasons he’d been reminded of why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place.

  But then their lips brushed, and Kara’s barely audible gasp brought him back to reality.

  This was neither the time, nor the place.

  And he wasn’t sure there’d ever be one again.

  NINE

  Kara came back to her senses as Sam leaped up from where they were seated on the floor. Their time together kept dredging up old, painful memories, and yet at the same time, her feelings for him had never been buried very far down, even after all these years. No one had ever replaced him, and more than once she’d wondered if God was punishing her for pushing him away—if she’d missed her one chance for true love, and whether her cruel rejection of him had ruined everything forever.

  But of course she knew better than that. Her head knew it, anyway. Her heart had different opinions, but her heart had also allowed him to get too close—to brush his lips against hers and remind her of what she’d lost. Her heart couldn’t be trusted.

  And neither could their enemies, which was probably why Sam had rushed away to the other side of the room and taken up sentinel by one of the windows.

  She sighed and bowed her head—and noticed a metal ring on the floor. She reached over, pulled on it and gasped to realize it was connected to the wooden flooring. She pulled a little harder and an entire panel lifted up, revealing a dark hole in the middle of the floor. Cool, musty air wafted up from inside.

  “Uh, Sam? I think I found the cellar.”

  He withdrew from the window and peered into the darkness. “If there are any supplies here, that’s where they’ll be. I’ll go down.” He sat and slid into the hole, gripping the floor as he lowered himself inside. “I’m touching the bottom,” he said after a few tense seconds. “Hang tight. I’m going to look around.”

  Kara held her breath as Sam shuffled in the pitch-black space, flinching at the sounds of limbs colliding with metal. In the meantime, she got to work removing the memory card from the camera and securing it in the waterproof case she carried in a zippered pocket of her cargo pants. She’d just zipped the pocket shut when Sam’s head popped back up and he placed several me
tal cans on the floor.

  “Water,” he said, checking the label. “Well, that’s good. Glad it’s not soda. I’m going to bring some up for us and for the horses.”

  It didn’t take long for him to carry up enough cans for everyone, find a couple of old buckets in the kitchenette and empty most of the water inside. He declined her offer of assistance, brought the water out to the horses and then returned inside shortly thereafter without a word.

  Kara sighed. It hadn’t escaped her that he’d avoided eye contact and seemed unwilling to exchange more than a few words. She needed to learn how to hold her tongue—wasn’t that what had gotten the two of them into this mess in the first place? Every time she’d had a chance to make things better, her big mouth had gotten the better of her. Insulting Sam when they were young. Speaking up about seeing artifacts in the ground before she’d taken better stock of the situation. Telling the foreman her suspicions about Gaida Industries even though she knew very well that he was an employee of the company. Why didn’t she think before she spoke?

  A wave of exhaustion hit her like a solid wall, and she closed her eyes, hoping to push through it—but when she opened them again, light streamed through the cabin windows. The darkness was gone, and the air smelled fresh and dewy.

  In alarm, she looked around the room—and saw Sam leaning against the wall in the same place he’d stood last night. His eyes were shut.

  “Sam?” she whispered. “Sam!”

  His eyes flew open with a start, every limb tensing for action. He flinched, blinking against the light, and then stared at her in surprise. “Did I fall asleep?”

  She nodded. “Standing up. Like the horses.”

  A tiny smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Guess I was more exhausted than I thought. We’d better get moving, though. Judging by the brightness of the sun, it looks like dawn came a little while ago, and if the Gaida Industries men are out looking for us in daylight—”