Wilderness Pursuit

by Michelle Karl

  He squeezed her tighter as her arms pressed against his back. Despite knowing that she’d accepted his embrace as a comforting connection rather than a romantic gesture, the oddity didn’t escape him. Had she forgotten that awkward kiss they’d shared earlier today? Had he? Why was he courting disaster with this woman?

  Because you still love her, said a small voice deep inside.

  But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Could he?

  “I’m scared, too, Kara, but the only way out of this is through. We need to make it back to Fort Mason, but unlike before, now we’ll have actual supplies, directions and hopefully a compass to keep us on track. We can do this. We’re going to get home.”

  She withdrew from his grasp as Leah and Bodie returned to the tent, each carrying a small backpack.

  “We put food, water and a compact blanket in each bag. Yours also has a compass and flashlight, Professor Park. Officer Thrace, yours has extra bandages and pain medication. I wish there was more we could offer you, but we’ll keep an ear to the radio in case the message changes or channels clear up.”

  “This is more than enough, thank you.” Kara sniffed and took the bags, offering one to Sam before she slung hers over her shoulders. “I guess now all we need to know is the way, and we’ll be off.”

  Talk about heading back into the lions’ den, Sam thought, using Kara’s earlier analogy. This time, I hope we don’t get eaten.

  THIRTEEN

  And just like that, they were back in the woods, surrounded by trees and dirt and enthusiastic wildlife. It saddened Kara to think how this experience was changing her. She’d loved being outdoors and had always been eager and excited at the start of each job to spend her days outside, deeply entrenched in natural wilderness. It usually made up for the weeks she’d have to spend afterward inside a lab or classroom, processing artifacts, writing reports and teaching part-time each semester.

  Now, the thought of spending even another minute outdoors wearied her from the inside out. She had no idea how Sam was truly coping, especially with that injury, because every time she asked him about it he insisted he felt fine. At the very least, they were no longer lost—not as badly as before, anyhow. Kara had studied Leah’s map before they left the survey camp and they were about ninety kilometers away from a bend in the river that Sam claimed he’d recognize as soon as he saw it. And that bend was just under forty kilometers outside town. Feasibly, they could walk the entire 135 kilometers in one day, but they’d have to keep up a rapid clip and press on overnight. She suspected Sam felt the same way as she did about it—caring little about stopping for sleep or rest now that they knew the way. They both just wanted to get back to town.

  “It’s incredible how you knew someone at that camp,” Sam said once they’d found the river and, as before, trekked alongside it at the edge of the tree line. “What was the likelihood of that?”

  “Pretty good, actually,” she said. “There’s a ton of survey work, biological research, geological projects and archaeological digs happening during the months between the end of winter semester and start of fall semester. You’ll find that many professionals in these fields teach during the school year and take contract work during the spring and summer. It’s a necessity in order to make ends meet, for one, but it also allows us to keep working and sharing our passion in the seasons when it’s too cold to be in the field. Sure, there are folks who specialize in all-season digs and studies, but more power to them. I’d rather be bundled up under a soft blanket inside a warm building with a hot coffee and papers to grade than be working outdoors in minus forty degrees Celsius.”

  “I don’t think anyone envies being outdoors in that kind of weather.” He chuckled. “Fort Mason gets pretty cold. It’s nothing like the rest of the province’s balmy interior.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call it balmy.” Kara adjusted the straps of her backpack. “And I admit that I do miss the small-town life sometimes. Maybe my memories are romanticizing my childhood, but it was good. Life was good.”

  Sam glanced sideways at her, a strange look on his face. “Yeah. It was.”

  “Did you ever leave the north? For training?”

  He nodded, a faraway gaze in his eyes. “I did. I went to Vancouver, I went to Calgary, parts of Saskatchewan and I spent some time in Ottawa. It was nice, and I’m glad I got to see so much of this beautiful country, but I always felt called back here. It’s home, you know? That probably sounds weird considering how much I complained about it during high school, but... I don’t know. I got a little older, a little wiser, and realized that there was no place I’d rather be than near family. I feel extremely privileged that my father and brothers were already in the service and were able to pull strings so that Leo, Aaron and I could serve together at this detachment. I mean, I don’t think the RCMP top brass was particularly disappointed when all three of us volunteered to head things up at Fort Mason. It’s remote and cold and has very few amenities, and is a very different kind of position from being an RCMP officer working elsewhere in the country. We’re basically police officers in these kinds of small towns, rather than holding an FBI-like role.”

  “Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on the excitement? Tracking down criminals, big investigations, that kind of thing?” Sam stopped walking and turned to face her, one eyebrow raised skyward. He pointedly glanced back and forth at their surroundings, then at his bandaged hand. Kara’s cheeks warmed at the obvious redundancy of her statement. “Okay, okay. I guess the excitement level is dialed too high. Forget I said anything.”

  They continued on in silence for a while longer, listening for the telltale sounds of ATVs, walkie-talkies or cocking shotguns—but as they shifted between walking side by side, in front of each other, or skirting obstacles on opposite ends, Kara also began to think about what would happen once they got back to town.

  Obviously, she no longer had a job at Fort Mason. Gaida Industries would be reported, top brass arrested, charges pressed...and she’d have to testify. That was likely to happen in Vancouver or elsewhere once the inevitable trial got under way. What would that mean for Sam? Would he have to take a leave from his post at Fort Mason, or did the RCMP have a different process for criminal cases?

  And once she left Fort Mason and returned to the university or took her next archaeological contract, would she ever see Sam again?

  The thought punched a hole straight into her heart. It felt as though someone had taken a boring knife and carved their way through, physically injuring her. The separation hadn’t even happened yet, and she already grieved the loss of his presence.

  What did that mean?

  Surely she hadn’t fallen that hard for him over the course of these past few days. She’d already convinced herself that she wasn’t the right woman for him—twice over, in the past and the present—and she’d assumed her heart would shut down its growing affections and purge her mounting emotions in response. Besides, how she felt didn’t matter. Her heart didn’t get to have a say in this. She’d already purposefully broken away from Sam on several occasions, over and over again, and the kiss earlier that morning had only proved that she’d made the right choice to keep pushing him away.

  She’d learn to live without him, like it or not. Regardless of her heart. No matter how it had started to yearn for his presence and his touch, as if they’d already been pulled apart by the necessity of their different life paths.

  He’d comforted her back at the survey site, sure, but that didn’t mean anything. They were friends again if they were anything at all, and that was how they’d stay.

  She was glad that Sam had taken the lead to walk ahead of her when the tears spilled.

  * * *

  Kara had kept oddly silent for the past while, but Sam didn’t want to push her—especially not after the breakdown she’d had in the tent at the survey site. This ordeal was taking a toll on both of them in different ways an
d at different times, and it had become clear that they both occasionally needed space just as much as they both occasionally needed comfort from one another. It surprised him, however, just how easily they were able to fall into that role and be there for each other at the right moments.

  Not that he should be surprised. They’d dated for several years during high school, after all, and aside from the inevitable maturing in the decades since, they were still the same people.

  Well, sort of. She was a more beautiful, more capable version of herself—not that he knew a good way to tell her that. And not that he wanted to, considering her persistent rejection of him. He’d have to learn how to live without her all over again, once this ordeal ended.

  What would he to do fill the void? Last time he’d signed up for a Korean language class, intending to fly down to her college and surprise her with a romantic poem written in her parents’ language—he’d thought it would be a way to prove his dedication and make her eat her words, convincing her of his ability to stay focused on something for more than two weeks at a time. He’d wanted to prove her wrong for calling him an ambitionless deadbeat.

  He’d lost interest in the language class four days into the program. It had been too hard, and he’d never developed the discipline to do the work, to persist when challenged. Not long after, he’d recognized the need to make a change. Maybe someday he’d tell her that, maybe not. What would doing so accomplish?

  Sunlight began to filter through the trees in harsh tones of vibrant yellow and orange, a sign that the sun would soon set and plunge the woods back into darkness.

  “Are you sure you want to walk through the night?” he called over his shoulder. “We can always stop and take turns napping. One of us can keep watch while the other rests. There’s been no sign of the Gaida goons for hours now, so I’m optimistic that they’re searching for us in the wrong area. Hopefully the survey crew sent them in the opposite direction.”

  “I think we should keep moving, unless your injury is draining your strength. If you think resting would help, though, we’ll stop.” She hurried up alongside him, hands gripping the straps of her backpack. “And don’t try to play the hero and tell me you’re fine if you’re not.”

  Did she still think so little of him? “I’m not going to lie to you, Kara. I never have and I never will.”

  “I wasn’t implying...you know what, never mind.” She slipped back onto the path behind him, and he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d once again stuck his foot in his mouth.

  “We’ll keep moving, then,” he said, trying to show her that he’d listened and respected her suggestion. They continued walking, but as the sun sank toward the horizon and the haze of twilight descended, he heard a high-pitched noise that sent a chill down his spine. He spun to face Kara. “Did you hear that or did I imagine it?”

  “The wolf howl? You’re not imagining it. I heard it, too. It sounded too far from here to worry about, don’t you think? Maybe take the flashlight out of my bag now before it gets dark and we have to waste time rooting around for it.”

  He took her suggestion and dug in her bag for the flashlight, sticking it in his back pocket for easy access. “If only being a dog person had any influence when it came to wolves, eh?” She laughed softly, and one of the bricks lifted off his heart—only for a split second, though, because the thought of roaming wolves brought Brenik and Zephyr back to mind.

  “I hope the horses are all right,” she said, as if she’d read his thoughts. When he turned around to read her sincerity, she shrugged. “I’m sure they are. I’ve probably just seen too many movies about wolves going after horses and people in the forest.”

  The howl sounded again, closer this time, and it was answered by yet another howl from a different direction. And a third that sounded even closer. Sam quickened his pace as he spoke to Kara over his shoulder. “Exactly. Brenik and Zephyr are smart, and they’re massive. A well-placed kick from them can kill a predator, and if they broke free back at the cabin, I wouldn’t doubt that they’re making their way back to town if they haven’t arrived already. Plus, if my brothers see the horses come in without us, they’re going to know something is seriously wrong. They’ll probably call in a rescue team to search for us—a chopper with a searchlight, maybe. And then we can use this flashlight to signal them.”

  He pulled the flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on. The light illuminated the space around them for several moments, then flickered and died.

  Kara groaned. “Leah didn’t check the batteries.”

  “She and Bodie put the bags together in a hurry,” Sam sighed. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Well, now what?” Kara pulled her backpack off one shoulder, dug inside and pulled out a granola bar. “I’m getting really hungry, so I’m going to refuel. I haven’t seen you take a single sip of water since we set out from the survey site let alone a bite of food, so I suggest you do the same.”

  He’d been so filled with adrenaline from trying to set a strong pace for home that it hadn’t even occurred to him to eat. He pointed at the bag on his back. “You’re right. Do you mind—”

  Another wolf howl sounded again, once again closer than before. Too close, in fact. His insides tingled with a sudden stab of nerves as he looked up at the sky. Night had descended on them very quickly, the way it always did in the north. He stole a glance at Kara, who’d frozen with the granola bar halfway to her mouth.

  “Kara?” She didn’t move. “What is it?”

  And then he heard it—a low growl coming from the nearby bushes.

  “Kara. Talk to me.”

  She kept her gaze trained on the foliage, but her words were clipped. “I’m seeing yellowish eyes, Sam. They’re here. Or at least one is, but we heard call and answer. I don’t want to turn around to check or make any sudden movements.”

  Sam felt ready to vomit. He’d received training on this exact scenario, but that had been years ago. Bears, wolves...was evading both of them the same? All he could remember was one critically important fact: never, ever run. Even when every muscle in the body screamed for it. Instinct told people to flee, to escape, to get out of there as fast as their feet could carry them, and ignoring one’s flight instinct took knowledge, training and practice. Running from a predator was the worst possible thing you could do, and he had no idea if Kara was familiar with survival techniques when facing down wild animals.

  And then he noticed her shifting her weight. “Kara, don’t—”

  His words came too late.

  She ran.

  FOURTEEN

  Kara bolted into the forest, fully expecting to hear Sam’s steps close behind her—but instead, she heard growls and barks and the sound of bodies moving swiftly through the bushes on her right and her left.

  Her heart thudded against her rib cage as Sam’s voice called out to her, distant and frantic.

  “Kara, stop! Make noise! Don’t let them surround you!”

  Make noise? She’d thought that was advice for scaring off bears, not for escaping a pack of wolves. Not that she’d ever learned how to evade wolves, because frankly she’d never anticipated being in that situation. In the movies, people always ran away as fast as they could.

  Of course, those characters were always caught. She mentally kicked herself. That should have been my first clue.

  A large tree loomed up ahead, and she beelined for it, intending to back against the trunk so that the pack couldn’t come up behind her. The instant she reached the tree, she turned around and began to scream, loud and piercing, using all the air in her lungs and all the remaining force in her body. Two wolves skidded to a stop only a few feet away, heads lowered and teeth bared.

  Intellectually, she knew they were only trying to survive. But in her heart, she prayed that they’d find something else to snack on.

  The wolves padded closer, and in her peripheral v
ision she noticed movement on each side. They were flanking her, trying to distract her with some pack members at the front, and it was working. Her throat grew raw and scratchy with each scream, and she doubted she’d be able to keep it up much longer. Her voice cracked, growing hoarse. She cringed against the tree trunk, braced for the onslaught of claws and fangs—when Sam flew up behind the pack shouting, waving his arms, whipping handfuls of rocks. The wolves flinched and growled, but they appeared less enthused with their prey now that they’d been given a challenge.

  “Get out of here!” Sam screamed. “Go pick on someone your own size!”

  The wolf at the head of the pack spun around and ran toward Sam. Kara felt faint at the sight of the wolf barreling down on him, but as the animal’s paws lifted off the ground, Sam’s fist collided with the side of its skull. The wolf whined and flew sideways for several feet before landing hard on its side, but it bounced back up without delay, shaking its head.

  And then, as if deciding the meal wasn’t worth the hassle, the wolf swung one last look back at Sam and then disappeared into the bushes. The rest of the pack immediately vanished, leaving behind no trace except for the faint rustling of leaves as they departed.

  Sam crossed the empty space to where Kara leaned against the tree for support. Her body shook from fear, and when she tried to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear, she couldn’t control her movements.

  “Are you all right?” Sam braced his hands on his knees as he bent over in a half crouch, breathing hard. He shook out his hand and flexed his fingers, grimacing. “Did they touch you at all?”

  “No,” she said, then thought better of it and checked her ankles. She saw several angry red scratches. “I think those are from the foliage, not from claws. I... I’m so sorry, Sam. I wasn’t thinking. My body just reacted.”