“In the other pocket.”
“What other pocket?” But then I remember that he is wearing cargo pants with pockets up and down the legs.
“The other pocket,” he repeats.
“Right.” I kneel and feel down his right leg. There is an empty snap button pocket. I run my hand down his left leg. Another empty pocket.
“Have you found it?” Mom is getting impatient.
“Just give me a second!” I’m short with her and under any other circumstance she’d now be ripping into me. She goes silent. Matt’s fear starts growing again. “I’m right here Matt.” God, I feel sorry for him. Will he recover from this? Except for that one weak moment in the rocks when I first saw his fears, he has been impossible to read. Now he’s like a TV I can’t turn off. I’m getting all kinds of pictures from him and I’m having to struggle at ignoring them. They are no longer pictures of the time he was left in the mountains. I think he is covering that up now with happy pictures; riding horseback with his mom, helping her deliver a calf; baking a pie with her. All his happy memories are with his mom; not his dad, and not his brothers.
I find the flashlight, about eight inches long, in a skinny pocket the exact size to fit it.
“Got it.” I stand up. I can’t find a button so it must twist. Matt’s white face lights up; too white, with dark shadows. Then there is Mom’s face. It too is strange, grotesque in a way, but not washed out like Matt’s. I turn the light to the ground and hand it to Dad. He uses it to look around and then turns it off.
“I don’t want to use up the batteries, so let’s get resituated and then we’ll start off again.”
I turn around while trying to work out the wedgie. Matt’s fists clamp onto my jeans. The flashlight comes on and we start moving.
“Where do we go once we get out of here?” Mom says.
“We find someplace to hide until dawn.”
“And then what?” Mom wants a plan and if I know Dad he’s making it up as he goes. What happens at dawn is too far away.
“I don’t know.”
“We can start thinking about it now,” Mom suggests.
“You go ahead,” Dad says. “When you come up with something let me know. Right now all I can think about is whether that shape just out of flashlight range is a tree, a bush or a sabre-toothed cat.”
Matt suddenly stops, and I go nowhere against his iron grip. Maybe Mom stopped first.
“What’s the matter?” Dad demands when I use my own iron grip on him.
“You just scared Mom and Matt with that cat comment.” I don’t mention that he also scared me. I had forgotten about the cats, being more worried about being found and shot to death.
He shuffles past me. “Tanya! You okay?”
“Yeah. I just thought . . .” Mom’s voice is shaking.
“Thought what?” Dad says.
“One of us should be walking backwards.”
That’s a good point. I don’t see it being possible though. The flashlight bounces around in the trees and then up the trail. Dad’s trying to decide what to do. “Why don’t I lead, with Matt,” I say. I don’t think there is any way I can get him to walk backwards. “You guys can kind of follow, staying faced in different directions, sort of.”
“Sure,” Dad says. “Just like eight years ago.”
“Look how well that worked,” Mom says.
“Yeah but it was snowing and cold,” I say, “and you kind of lost it, Mom, and almost killed Dad. It’s a lot different this time. For one there are four of us. That’s a group and the cats are likely to leave a group alone. We don’t have a fence to climb over. We just have men with guns looking for us. And as long as none of us falls and breaks a leg, Dad shouldn’t have to carry anyone out.” I stop my yapping as I realize that Dad is staring at me and Mom is staring at him.
“How much have you told her?” Mom says. “I guess she’s old enough, and considering the circumstances it wouldn’t make a hill of beans, but you said that we, together, would eventually tell them both the whole story.”
Mom is looking at me with question marks all over her face. What do I say? “I ah . . .”
“She read Mister Price’s journal.” All of a sudden Matt is completely with us and opening his big fat mouth, which I’d like to punch and make even fatter. He has let loose of me and is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet and the circle of light.
“How in the hell?” Mom says. Dad puts a hand on her arm.
“Save it for another time, Tanya,” he says firmly. “Becky has a point about this being different than before, and we are one more—a group. Matt, are you with us?”
“Yes, Sir,” he says softly.
“Good. We’ll form a circle facing out, holding hands. We’ll take turns leading to take the stress off of those walking sideways or backwards. Agreeable?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Good old Dad, taking charge and taking the spotlight off of me. Surprisingly, Mom slides into submission. I’ll just be myself and do what I’m told because I’m the kid. Matt may be back but I think he is in denial now, easily slipping into the submissive mode because there is nothing else. My insides are crying for him.
We circle up and restart our trek; not all that easy to do on a narrow trail with one small flashlight. The circle doesn’t hold its shape very well but with only minor swearing and a lot of stumbling we make it out of the woods and into a clearing, or what we think is a clearing. The bit of a moon we had when we entered the forest is now gone and all we have for light is the amazing sky full of stars. “WOW!” I say out loud. I’ve never seen anything like it before.
“What?” Dad says.
“The sky. It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, but where the hell did the moon go? Wasn’t it rising when we entered the forest?”
“It was setting,” Matt says.
“Setting? I thought the moon rose at night.”
“Nope. It changes.”
“Oh! Which way are we facing? Anyone have any idea.”
“East, I think,” I say.
“I’ll look,” Matt says. There is the sound of Velcro and then the soft glow of the screen of his GPS receiver.
“What’s that?” Mom says.
“Global positioning system receiver.”
“What’s that?”
“GPS.”
“Oh!”
“We know where we are, then,” Dad says.
“Yes.”
“What good will that do us?” Mom says. “I can tell you where we are. Does anyone have a phone so we can tell someone who can rescue us before those guys back there find us?”
“It’ll tell us where the towns are, where the roads are, and where established trails are,” I say, “if Matt has the right maps loaded in it.”
“Yes,” Matt says. His face is intent upon the screen.
“So, where is there a town, or a road?” Mom says with a little impatience.
“Just a sec. Still grabbing satellites,” he says. He looks up at the stars. “We’ve got a clear view of the sky so we should be able to get a good signal.” We stand about in silence until he says, “We’re traveling East by Northeast.”
“Where’s the nearest town?”
He fools some more with the device and says, “Northwest is Columbia Falls. Northeast is Hungry Horse.”
“How far?”
He sets Columbia Falls for GOTO and says, “Six point one seven miles . . . if we were birds and could fly straight there. Because we’re on foot and have terrain between us it’d probably turn into eight or ten.”
Mom blows out a breath. “What about a road?”
“East a couple of miles. I already know that’s an old logging road; bad shape. We could follow that South a couple of more miles and hit a little bit better road. That’ll lead to another road that will lead to the road that leads to Sam’s place, after walking a big circle.”
“Ran
chers? Farmers? Summer homes? Does anyone live out here besides Sam?”
“A few, but they’re not on my GPS. The shortest way out of here is straight west, directly through Sam’s place.”
Mom’s teeth grind. She turns away. “Shit!”
“Anywhere we go it’s at best an all night walk,” Dad says
“I don’t call this walking,” Mom complains. “Do you have any idea what I’m wearing on my feet?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Hardly more than slippers!”
“Then we need to find a place to hold up for the night.”
“And I’m wet and cold,” Mom adds. “This is July. It’s supposed to be warm at night. The longer we stand here the colder I get.”
“What about the cave?” I suggest.
“What cave?”
“The rocks where Matt and I were trapped by the cats when Dad and Sam rescued us.”
“When was this?” Mom demands.
There is a silence and then Dad says, “This afternoon.”
There is more grinding teeth and more blowing of air. “Damn it all to hell! What other surprises are there?”
“That’s probably about it, Mom. I think the cave is our best bet right now.”
“Fine! Where is this fu . . . frigin’ cave? I don’t suppose it’s on that GPS too?”
“Yeah, it is.” Matt manipulates the buttons to bring up the list of nearby waypoints. They’re all numbers except three that say, HELP REBA, SAM, and SCAT. He hadn’t assigned names to the others. I’d assign names. And the numbers are high which means he never clears them. There’s no way he can remember what those all are. He highlights and then clicks on HELP REBA, and then punches GOTO. The compass displays with a black arrow that points a bit East of North. “Point seven six five miles,” he says.
I start to picture the map in my mind showing where we are, and where the house is, and then Matt does it for me. He brings up the topographical map, adjusts it until our location and the two labeled points are displayed together. A bold line from us to the cave shows us moving steadily away from Sam’s. Matt turns it to show Mom.
“We’re here,” he points. “We want to go here.”
“Help Reba?”
“Don’t worry about it Mom. Tell you all about it later.”
“Fine.” There is another point labeled SCAT not far away from the cave. Mom asks, “What’s that?”
“That’s the grizzly scat we found,” I say before biting my tongue. That’s more information than Mom needs to know. “Bear shit!” I correct. “It was old. He’s long gone by now.”
“That’s not true,” Matt corrects. If I knew where his shin was, I’d kick him. “It was less than a day old.”
“Yeah, but a day’s a long time. He’s probably back in Glacier now.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Yes necessarily!” I judge the space in which he and Mom are standing, separate the two and then rabbit-punch with my foot.
“YEOW!” He stumbles back, trips and falls.
“STOP IT!” Mom yells. “Shit all to hell!”
That’s my phrase. She has no right to take my phrase.
“We’ve got sabre-toothed cats, men with guns, and now GRIZZLY BEARS!” Her voice rises with each syllable until she screams the last two words. She keeps on screaming. “WE DON’T NEED YOU TWO FIGHTING LIKE KIDS!”
I think about how she reacted when she saw Sam, and say, “Maybe we should fight like adults,” even as I realize my statement might not have a positive effect. My mom is not a physical person; that is, she doesn’t slap or spank me, or at least hasn’t in my memory. However, I have a sudden psychic image of her hand smacking my face.
Wow! I just jumped into her thoughts and it’s like I was actually slapped. I step back before she really does it. “I’m sorry.”
“Matt, get up!” she orders.
“I’m standing right here, Mrs. Price.”
“Oh! Zach? Where’d you go?”
“Right behind you, out of reach.”
“Funny. Matt, you’ve got the GPS thing so you’re in the lead.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I don’t want to waste time trying to walk in a facing out circle. I agree that these cats won’t attack a group of us, and I’m counting on the fact that they’ll consider four of us a group. So, let’s go before I freeze to death. Take us to this cave.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Belts everyone,” Dad says.
I grope until I find Matt. Mom hooks her fingers around my jeans and I assume Dad does the same with her.
“You need the flashlight, Matt,” Dad says, and then it passes up to him.
And we’re off; a silent snake of people weaving our way past bushes and rocks, over and under fallen trees, down into a ravine and back up the other side. I expect Mom to complain on the uphill parts, but she doesn’t. Her feet hurt and she has stubbed her toes over and over. I know because I can see and sense her pain.
“How much farther?” she says at the top of the second ravine, gasping for oxygen at the same time.
“Point four two,” Matt says.
“Shit!” she says. “I need a break.”
The flashlight goes out. We let loose of each other and Mom sits on the ground. The rest of us stand around silently.
A twig snaps.
Matt turns on the flashlight and swings it in that direction. It hasn’t the power to penetrate very far. I don’t know about the others, but I’m holding my breath. What does a snapping twig mean? A squirrel can’t snap a twig, and a twig can’t snap on its own. I don’t like my conclusion.
Then there is another noise; unidentifiable; almost undetectable; less than a rustle, more than the wind; and it sends a shiver down my spine.
The night settles again and I begin to doubt what I heard, or felt, contributing it to my imagination following the twig-snap.
Then Mom says, “Did anyone else hear that?” She is back on her feet.
“Yes,” Matt says.
We are all facing a different direction, our backs and shoulders pressed to each other. “Whatever it was, it’s gone,” I say.
“How do you know?” Matt says.
“I just know.”
“I think she’s right,” Dad says. His voice is nervous. “Let’s keep moving.”
Despite Mom’s grumbling about her feet—she doesn’t grumble aloud, but I hear her complaints in my head—we start moving again. Our pace is steady, or as steady as it can get holding on to each other, in the forest with only a dimming penlight for a guide. The land has become relatively level and for a while there are no downed trees to navigate over or around. I get the feeling we are passing through a young forest; the trees are smaller; the air smells fresher than the old forest we had been in where there was lots of rotting deadfall.
The fresh feeling doesn’t last long. A vision of death flairs in my head.
“Dad!” I try to keep the panic out of my voice. The graphic picture I receive is not one of us, but it causes my heart to jump into my throat. It’s one of them; one of those with night vision goggles strapped to his face. He’s trailing us and he is going to die.
“I know,” Dad says. “Everyone stop. Now! Keep your eyes open; face moving.”
He doesn’t know. He can only feel. I can see.
“What! Where!” I can feel Mom shaking against me.
“It’s not us,” I say. “It’s one of them.”
We are whispering.
“What are you talking about?” Matt demands.
“Hush!” My order silences him. We wait. My heart is banging against my chest. I take a breath and hold it, watch the vision behind my eyes, and grit my teeth. “Jesus!” It’s over—for me anyway, at least the visual part. A gorge tries to rise from my stomach. I push it back down. The death still has yet to happen. I’m shaking more than Mom now.
There’s a clatter of gun fire but I am the only one who knows that it is the result of a reflex as the sabre teeth of the huge animal
severs the man’s head from his body. I push away from the group, grope to find a tree to hold onto and then vomit.
Chapter 41
Zach
I don’t know what actually happened but I can guess.
“Is it over?” Tanya asks, her voice low and raspy.
“Yes.”
“Is what over?” Matt demands. He deserves an explanation but now is not the time.
“Later,” I say. “We’ve got to get moving again.” Becky returns and I take her hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just give me a minute.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
“How much farther, Matt?”
“You’ve got to tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Not now! When we get to the cave. I promise.”
There’s a silence and then a glow from the GPS. “Point two six.”
“Just a quarter mile,” I say as if it is only across the street. It can turn into a long way if there’s a steep hill or rock cliff between here and there. We start moving, Matt’s in the lead again, followed by Becky, Tanya, and me playing caboose. We’re making good time now. The land is flat and not at all dense, and there are few trip hazards.
And then I hear it. Rushing water. It is not a bubbling brook like what we waded through when we ran out of the house. It’s the same creek, just farther up, and the sound tells me it is rushing fast, maybe dropping like cascading waterfalls. It’s probably narrow and deep instead of wide and shallow.
We stop.
“What?” I move up next to Matt. His light disappears into a void from where the sound of the crashing water comes. He points it down at our feet and I see that we are on the edge of a ravine. How steep it is I have no idea.
“What now?” Tanya asks.
I ignore her. “Do you think we can go down stream a ways and find a way to get down and cross?”
“Maybe,” Matt says, “or up stream.”
“Down takes us closer to the house,” Becky says. “We know we can cross there but we don’t want to go there.”
“Up then?” I say.
Sabre-Toothed Cat Trilogy Page 62