Timberline Trail

by Lockner, Loren

  Tia finally crouched behind another large shielding boulder and listened intently. Nothing but the incessant bickering of two noisy jays and the tumble of the distant stream broke the forest’s calm serenity. For the first time in the last twenty minutes she felt safe but uncomfortable. While it had warmed up a couple degrees, the day still felt cold and she’d lost her Scandinavian ski cap at the shed. Tia pulled the hood of her parka over her head, pulling the laces tight under her chin. Her lips felt chapped and burned with cold, and a blister was rising on her right heel from the oversized boots. Shoving her discomfort away, she tried to formulate a plan.

  First and foremost she had to connect with Jon, who’d promised to meet her at the stream. Warmth flooded her midsection at the thought of his quiet serious face. Tia visualized his steady green eyes, suddenly anxious to see him again. The location for their rendezvous was west of here so she moved cautiously, sticking to the tree line to avoid being seen. As she trudged through the often hip-deep snow, she speculated upon the voices she’d heard.

  One had belonged to the sandy-haired French-Canadian and another to the duplicitous Steve.

  But the other male voice had been wildly pitched, indicating he’d risked a great deal to warn her. The more she thought about it, the more she suspected either Tory or Paul were prisoners in her cabin. At least two men searched for Jon and her, armed with high-powered weapons. She recognized the rifle Steve carried as one of her father’s favorites; a high caliber hunting rifle able to take an accurate shot from fifty yards away and worse yet, equipped with a very sophisticated sighting mechanism. Steve appeared very comfortable with the rifle so she was certain he’d used one before. Once again she chided herself about how she’d been so misled by his jaunty smile and witty comments.

  Tia’s attention shifted to the problems at hand. Already her boots were soaking wet and while thankful for Ben’s oversized ski pants, the baggy bottoms were already sodden. She felt chilled and tired and very hungry. A sudden movement to her left caused her to pull up short. A Sitka black-tailed deer peered back at her, his head topped with amazingly sharp curved horns. His black tail twitched as he examined her before suddenly bounding away to leap effortlessly over rocks and boulders. At least the sighting of the deer suggested Steve hadn’t remained in the vicinity and Tia relaxed somewhat as she continued her methodical pace in search of Jon.

  She veered south in hopes of moving closer to her cabin and after a few arduous minutes of plowing through the heavy snow spotted the small hill she’d affectionately dubbed “Anthony’s Lookout’ after her father had shown her the special spot over a year ago. She zigzagged to the top of the rise and from where she stood, her cabin, surrounded by spruce and pine forest, loomed out of the clearing. Both chimneys billowed black smoke, and from this distance, Tia could make out a tall spare man clad in a yellow and green jacket standing before her door. He seemed to be waiting for something and Tia wished she had binoculars.

  Unable to discern his identity, she focused instead on Jon’s black Cherokee which rested lopsided in the snow, one or more of its heavy tires blown out. Someone rummaged through the bed, dumping out their first aid kit and other items. Tia twisted around, searching all four directions and praying she could pinpoint Jon. Only the flicker of a shiny black-winged bird against the dark bark of an Alpine fir broke the symmetry of the forest. Once again Tia shivered uncontrollably, realizing if she wanted to stay alive and warm she had to keep moving. So with deep reservation she headed away from her cabin and its beckoning warmth, praying her steps would lead her to Jon and safety.

  Chapter 7

  Thirty minutes later, no closer to locating Jon than before, she took a breather in a stand of Poplar trees while scanning the heavily forested horizon. The snow, though deep and powdery, had begun to melt under the bright sun and the temperature had risen a good ten degrees. Today was a good example of the fickle nature of Alaska. To her left Tia glimpsed the blur of a quickly moving figure loping like a wolf and prayed it was Sugar.

  “Sugar,” she hissed out, afraid to shout too loudly in the cool crisp air, knowing sounds carry a long way in snowy conditions.

  If it was Sugar, the wolf didn’t nose her out and she sank upon a large splintery log. Her position was precarious. Cold, hungry, and without any supplies, she would surely perish if another blizzard arrived. Certainly by now she should have run across Jon, but no trace of either his or Sugar’s paw prints had surfaced. If Tia didn’t keep moving she would die, so she rose and headed in the direction of where the tiny creek meandered near its rocky bank. As she neared the water’s edge, Tia retrieved pieces of flaky bark shaped like a spoon and used it to scoop up the icy liquid. The cold water made her teeth ache but she immediately felt refreshed and revived.

  Peering into the clear running water she made up her mind. For the next two hours she’d continue searching for Jon. If he failed to turn up, she had to head south for the shelter of the rustic summer cabins at Crane Lake. Tia squinted at the bright sun. Her decision only left her three hours until sundown so she’d better get a move on. Tia started at the stream, her strategy to make slowly-widening circles in her search for Jon. The only tracks she came upon in ninety minutes were the delicate prints of two doe, the unmistakable scramble of ground squirrels, and of course her own and was forced to give up in despair.

  Her serviceable wristwatch indicated it was now past twelve. Sadly she turned toward Crane Lake to begin the long, lonely hike taking her farther away from Jon. So intent was she upon staying warm and focused that Tia almost missed the tracks running parallel to her slow-plodding path. The imprints were manmade and widely spaced apart, as if the owner had been running. It had to be Tory and Tia trailed the tracks until the vastness of her own stupidity stuck her. They led straight back toward the road and her cabin! How had she gotten so turned around?

  A blinding reflection struck her eyes and Tia gasped in amazement. There, hood crumpled against the huge cottonwood, rested the Ford pickup that less than 24 hours ago had crashed to the bottom of the embankment. On wobbly legs she approached cautiously, listening intently. Convinced no one lingered about, Tia managed to open the creaky door once again and slide inside. The seat was covered in glass, the interior as icy as the exterior so she wasted no time feeling around behind the seat. Nothing. In fact, the car appeared emptier than yesterday. No refuge or warmth was to be found here with the huge gaping holes in the front and rear windshields.

  Her eyes stung from cold and fatigue though the hood of her parka prevented heat loss from her head. She pulled down the visor to check her red eyes in the mirror and stared in stunned amazement. The vehicle’s second set of keys hung in a metal clip. Thank God for Roy’s ingenuity! Did she dare start the engine to check if the truck’s two-way radio functioned? A chilling thought struck her. What if the fuel line had been damaged and needed only a spark to set it off? Tia shivered in the cold interior of the ruined truck for nearly five minutes mulling over her choices before finally deciding to try and start the battered pickup truck.

  Turning the key in the ignition, she held her breath, praying the fuel line hadn’t been damaged.

  The engine ground endlessly before finally turning over, the radio bursting into life as Sting warbled about desert roses and warm sun. Stunned, it took the nearly paralyzed Tia a full minute to find the off switch for the tuner. Heart thudding, she fumbled with the two-way radio and heater but both were positively useless. She searched the dash and the floorboards one more time, discovering a grease-stained olive blanket shoved under the seat. Tia placed the soiled mess upon the seat and circled the exterior of the truck once more. It was her awkward oversized boot that struck the buried walkie-talkie tightly wedged against a protruding stump under the snow.

  The apparatus actually emitted a burst of static as Tia snatched it up and played with the controls. The glowing red light gleaming from the top right hand corner indicated the battery still held some life so Tia pushed the communications switch
and sent a desperate message to whoever could hear.

  “This is Tia Heath. Can anyone read me? Please respond!” She repeated the message six times before a weak voice squeaked across the line.

  “Tia! Tia!” A burst of static caused her to flinch. “This is Tory. Where are you?”

  “In the Ford pickup. Where are you?”

  She felt rather than heard the mighty shiver bursting from his frightened teenaged voice. “They were shooting at us Tia!”

  “Who Tory? Try to calm down. Who?”

  “Paul and I were in the Ford he got from Roy. I caught up with him in my snowmobile by taking all the cross-country shortcuts and he placed my glider in the back since it was getting so cold. We were almost to your place when someone started shooting. These two men just came out of nowhere and blasted the windshield. The shots barely missed me!”

  “Are you alright Tory?” Tia asked.

  “Just got a few glass cuts on my face. The Ford plunged over the embankment and I opened up the car door and jumped out. The snowmobile slid halfway down the hill and I just hit the ground running and caught up with it. I gunned that sucker and headed off. I... I don’t know what happened to Paul.”

  “Neither do I. Where are you Tory?”

  The brittle clacking sound over the line had to be his teeth chattering. “I headed to Saul’s old closed-up cabins near Crane Lake and broke a window in one of the units and slept there last night.”

  “Tory listen. You’ve got to head back to Timberline and send help. I think Paul may have been killed and some men, who were shooting at Jon and me, have taken over my cabin.”

  “Jon? Jon who?”

  “Never mind. You’ve got to get Jayce out here and pronto.”

  The boy stuttered, the static breaking up his words. “But... but I don’t know if I have enough fuel.”

  “You’ve got to try Tory. Promise me you’ll try. Break into the cabins and office to get what you need; I’ll explain it to the sheriff later. Just scoot back to Timberline and send some help.”

  “I will Tia.”

  “Saul used to have a storage room where he kept lots of equipment. He might even have some fuel in cans. I’ll try to contact you later and will leave this line open.”

  “Are you okay Tia?”

  “Just a little cold. I’ll hike over to Saul’s cabins but it will take me several hours. There’s no time to lose, so head out.”

  “Okay Tia. I’ll send back help soon. Don’t you worry.”

  “I won’t Tory. Godspeed.” A mighty burst of static indicated Tory had switched off the walkie-talkie.

  An incredible wave of weariness passed over her and she crawled back into the cab and brushed off the seat with the greasy green blanket before draping it around her, determined to rest for only a minute. Her head drooped and her shoulders sagged and without intending it she fell into a deep, numbing sleep.

  Someone shook her violently and after administering a stinging slap to her nearly numb cheeks her eyes burst wide open.

  “Tia, Tia! You’ve got to wake up!” Jon’s manner and tone were as rough as ever, but his insistent voice managed to penetrate the fog she’d sunk into. His face appeared drained and white and a streak of blood crusted the side of his face. He hauled her from the frigid truck and Tia threw her arms around him.

  “Jon, I couldn’t find you! I circled the region adjacent to the stream, but somehow got disoriented. I luckily ran across my own footprints and ran into the Ford.” She managed to catch her breath enough to ask, “What made you return to the truck?”

  “I heard the radio. You know, I’ve never cared much for Sting but he led me right to you. I’ll have to buy one of his CD’s in appreciation. Tia, if I hadn’t come you... you would have frozen to death.”

  Tia cold cheeks flamed scarlet. She’d disobeyed the first rule of winter survival and allowed herself to fall asleep. “I... I was so tired.”

  “It’s okay sweetheart, but we’ve got to get out of here. If I heard the radio, they may have as well.”

  “We’ve got to find shelter. The sun will be setting in less than two hours.”

  “I may have a place, one I discovered on one of my photo treks. Can you walk?”

  “Of course. Oh!” Her miraculous find suddenly came back to her and she handed him the walkie-talkie. “I found Tory’s two-way radio in the snow. He managed to escape with his snowmobile and is at Saul’s cabins near Crane Lake. He promised me he’d head back to Timberline and get us some help.”

  “That’s amazing! He’s Nancy’s boy right?”

  “Yes.”

  Jon rubbed his cold hands together. “Do you think he can make it?”

  “I hope so. He’s lived in Alaska all his life. Hopefully he understands nature’s whims enough to survive. I told him to break into the cabins and take whatever he needs. I’ll explain it to Jayce later.”

  “Jayce?”

  “The sheriff.”

  “At least we know he’s safe. We’ve got to hurry... the temperature’s dropping fast!”

  Jon trotted off at a brisk pace after Tia wrapped the dingy blanket around her shoulders, grateful for the tingling in her feet. At least they weren’t frozen yet. Only then she noticed he carried his large dark olive backpack as well as the rifle.

  She sidled up beside him. “Where did you get the bag?”

  Jon snorted in laughter. “That French-Canadian and Steve sprinted after us like a coyote running down a chicken. I waited until they hurried by and then circled back and grabbed up my backpack and extra cartridges. You ought to see the damage to my Jeep.” He paused. “Your truck’s completely destroyed Tia. Those bastards have a lot to pay for.” Tia flinched and Jon gave her shoulders a rough squeeze. “Anyway, I was just about to try and enter your cabin to use the short-wave radio when the door opened and a third man holding a rifle ventured outside. I waited until he strolled for the tree line and then bolted in the opposite direction. For all we know, there could be more.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Fairly average. He wore a green and yellow jacket and a baseball cap or something. He was tall and lean and had a brown mustache.”

  “He sounds just like the man I spotted from Anthony’s Lookout.”

  “Anthony’s...?”

  “Lookout; a place I named after my dad from where you can see the cabin and all the surrounding vicinity.”

  “Any shelter?”

  “No. It’s unfortunately wide open and terribly breezy. You said you knew another place?”

  “Yeah, about a quarter of a mile due north across the river. There’s a group of large rocks housing a pretty good-sized cave. I found it while tracking a black bear over a week ago. At one time bears used the cave to hibernate, but I’m hoping we won’t have any of the furry tenants there today. Are you game?”

  “Of course,” said Tia stoutly.

  “One thing I can say about you girl, you’ve got spunk. Let’s move then.”

  It took them nearly two hours to reach the cave. Between huge slippery rocks and the Bear River they had to reroute twice and what had originally appeared to be less than an hour’s journey ended up nearly ninety minutes by the time they reached the river. While the Bear isn’t considered a huge river, at some places it spans a good fifteen feet across with swiftly moving white-tipped water. They searched in vain for a crossing point until Jon finally gave up, indicating they had to ford it even if it meant getting their feet wet since the sun was about to set.

  A half-rotten log lay suspended over part of the river and they both teetered to the end of it before Jon gingerly placed his feet into the foot-deep river, splashing as quickly as he dared to the other side. Tia followed suit but the damage was already done. Water immediately seeped into her boots, instantly turning her toes numb. Jon inspected the bottom of her snow pants and shook his head grimly.

  “We’ve got to find shelter quickly before our feet freeze! The boulders are right over there and directly behind the
m is the cave.”

  Tia trailed behind, watching Jon squeeze his body between two flatiron type rocks and disappear into the dark.

  “Just a moment,” he shouted, after Tia pushed her body between the two cold slabs of rock.

  Pulling a torch from his bag he illuminated a circular cave, the size of a good-sized room, which smelt dank and musty. His flashlight swung left and right and Tia noted inoffensive piles of dried dung and straggly grass spotting the sandy surface.

  “Will this do?” asked Jon, leaning his rifle against a white boulder.

  “Of course.” The cave felt warmer than outside, the heavy boulders sheltering it from the brisk wind.

  “Maybe we can make a fire since there’s a thin fissure between the rocks at the top of the cave.”

  He lay down his pack and once again squeezed through the crevice to forage for dry kindling. Tia dropped the rough green blanket upon the ground and grabbing up the torch examined the cave in the dim light. The small cavern extended out only a few yards in the shape of an Apache wickiup, its ceiling rising a good twenty feet from the cave floor. Roots from an old dead tree broke through the ancient rock and Tia twisted off a thick piece. The size of her arm, it would burn well.

  Tia slipped out of the cave to join Jon in his search for wood and kindling. He appeared a couple minutes later dragging a large dead log behind him. Over the next few minutes the pair broke off the extending limbs and managed to drag the main trunk of the log into their shadowy shelter. Night suddenly fell in one obscuring swoop as the exhausted sun sank behind the ridge.

  In the dimness of the cave Tia whispered, “You wouldn’t have any matches by chance?”

  “I’ve got something much better, thank you,” said Jon, whipping a lighter out of his parka pocket with a flourish.