Surrender: A Bitter Creek Novel

by Joan Johnston

  “I can’t see much past the trees,” Tag replied.

  The forest was so overgrown it was nearly impenetrable. The going was slow. But they had enough boiled water to last them for a couple of days, and they’d eaten a hearty breakfast that morning to give them the strength to keep moving. To his surprise, Tag had consumed the roasted hare with relish.

  “You never told me how you liked the rabbit,” he said.

  “It could have used a little salt and maybe some sage or thyme, but overall, it was delicious. I think I could have eaten it raw, I was so hungry.”

  They were able to walk side by side for a short distance, and Brian took advantage of the opportunity to search Tag’s face for signs of the brief starvation they’d endured in the cave. It was there in her gaunt cheeks. What he found more provocative was the worried look staring back at him from her blue eyes.

  “Chin up,” he said. “We’re bound to find a logging trail or a Forest Service road or the spot where the jumpers dropped. It’s only a matter of time before we get rescued or discover a way out on our own.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. You forget I flew over this area. I know how isolated it is. We’re miles from any road. We’ve got shade from the sun and food and water in this forest, but we’re completely hidden from anyone searching for us from the sky.” She paused, then added, “I don’t know how you got rid of that fever, but without antibiotics, we both know it’s coming back. Maybe we ought to find ourselves a spot in an open meadow to set up camp and lay out that parachute, so it can be seen from the air.”

  “What if no one happens to fly by and notice us?”

  Tag made a disgruntled sound. “You’re being pessimistic again.”

  “No. I’m calling it like I see it. Walking out of here is our best chance of surviving.” He didn’t mention the fact that if anything happened to him, her chances of lasting in the wilderness diminished. Two people had a far better chance of fending off predators and finding water and food than one. “Right now I feel fine,” he said. “So long as I do, I don’t intend to sit around in the sunshine and wait for help to arrive. So move your beautiful ass, Tag.”

  She shot him a narrow-eyed look and marched off ahead of him. “You’re awfully bossy.”

  He remembered ordering her out of the plane with exactly those words. He wondered if they’d have been better off staying with the Otter. Certainly, it would have been easier for searchers to find them, especially if they’d remained near the plane. But he’d been fearful they would end up crash-landing in the middle of the fire, from which there would be no escape.

  She stopped abruptly and said, “Do you hear that?”

  He paused and listened. He heard aspen leaves fluttering in the wind. He heard chirping birds and buzzing flies.

  And he heard a small plane.

  “Move!” he ordered.

  Tag looked at him helplessly until he gestured toward an open area to their right.

  “Anywhere is better than here!” he snapped.

  She began to run, the sleeping bag bouncing on her back. “It’s too far!” she yelled breathlessly. “We’ll never get there in time.”

  “The plane might be circling. Run!”

  It was another one of those tiny meadows that appeared in the forest with no rhyme or reason. He slung the red-and-white parachute off his shoulder and shook it so the wind could catch it and spread it to its full size. Tag was waving her arms, her head back, her gaze aimed at the sky.

  “We’re down here! We’re here!” she shouted.

  He didn’t point out that there was no way anyone in the air could hear her. Waving her arms couldn’t hurt, but it probably wouldn’t help much either. He was counting on the billowing parachute to announce their location. Assuming the plane flew over this meadow. And someone was looking down at the right moment and saw them.

  He tried to find the plane in the sky but couldn’t locate it. “Can you see where it is?”

  She put a hand up to shade her eyes from the sun and searched the cloudless blue sky. “No. Can you?”

  He shook his head but kept looking.

  “Do you think it’s searching for us?”

  “I doubt it would be flying that low if it weren’t.”

  “Why don’t they see us?”

  Because we’re a dot on the landscape. Because they’re at the wrong angle and the trees are blocking their view. Because they’re only in the air at all because someone is paying them to fly, and they’ve long since given up expecting to find us.

  He thought all those things, but he didn’t say them. He could hear the plane moving away.

  “We need smoke,” Tag said, her voice frantic.

  “We couldn’t get a fire built in time.”

  “We could try!”

  “It would be a waste of time.”

  “They’re leaving,” she cried, shooting him a panicked look. “Do something, Brian!”

  “I’m sorry, Tag. Maybe we’ll get lucky next time.”

  “Next time you’ll have us hidden in the forest again,” she retorted.

  They’d never seen the plane, only heard it. It hadn’t seen them, or it would have done a flyover to let them know they’d been spotted. Brian offered what little encouragement he could. “Chances are they’ve found the Otter by now. They know which direction it was flying, and they did the math to figure out how far the plane glided before it hit the ground. If they found the plane, they know we got out alive.”

  “But they don’t know whether we left the Otter after it crashed or by jumping,” she protested.

  “They likely searched the area near the plane first. Now we know they’ve finished their search there and have moved off to this area. There might even be people on the ground somewhere around here. They would have used the few roads that exist to drive in, so if we can find a road we’re halfway home.”

  He saw her shoulders slump before she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and said, “All right, then. Let’s get moving.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  She arched a brow. “I’m not your girl or anyone else’s. At least, not yet.”

  He laughed and said, “That’s my girl.”

  TAYLOR KEPT HER banter with Brian upbeat for the next four hours, as they made their way through the forest toward Chaos Mountain. He was limping—badly—and his face looked flushed, which told her his fever was back.

  Maybe if she suggested a short rest, he would take one. “I’m ready for a break.”

  “Let’s keep moving,” he countered.

  She considered his unwillingness to sit down as evidence that he knew how grim his situation was. She decided to bring up another subject that concerned her. “I’ve been smelling smoke.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Do you think it’s the same fire? Or another one?”

  “No way of knowing.”

  Taylor wondered if they were walking right back into danger. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that the forest fire they’d come here to fight wasn’t yet out, eight days after they’d gone missing. “So there might be jumpers out here somewhere.”

  “If the fire’s still out of control, they’re out here.”

  “Aren’t you worried that we might get ourselves into trouble again, if we keep walking without knowing where the fire is?”

  “Have you seen the sky?”

  She looked up. “What about it?”

  “Those are rain clouds. They’ve been developing all morning.”

  She gave the sky a more lengthy examination through the tall pines. The clouds were merely gray overhead, but in the distance, they had darkened to an angry purple bruise. “How can you tell the storm is coming this way?”

  “I’ve studied a bit. And I have lots of experience praying for rain.”

  She laugh
ed. “I guess you would. I’ve seen how hard you smoke jumpers work on the ground. All that digging and cutting and whacking at flames. I don’t know how you do it for hours—and days—on end. Or why you do it, for that matter. It’s brutal work in awful conditions. I know the pay is good, but you don’t need the money. What’s the attraction?”

  “I love the challenge of conquering the fire. It’s the most primal sort of battle—man against the elements. I even appreciate the fear. That’s part of what creates the excitement, knowing your life is on the line. The jump from an airplane into a small clearing surrounded by burning forest is literally a death-defying feat. The fire could turn and kill you in seconds. The cherry on top is the fact that you’re doing something extraordinary, something not many people can physically or psychologically handle. It’s addictive. That’s why smoke jumpers come back year after year.”

  He plopped onto a knee-high stone shelf. “Okay. I admit it. I’m bushed.”

  That was quite a concession for a man who could fight a forest fire nonstop for three days without sleep. She slid to the ground beside him. “I’m glad you quit first. I didn’t want to be a ‘girl’ and ask for special treatment.”

  He grinned. “God forbid.”

  She noticed he’d settled on a ledge instead of dropping to the ground. Was it because he thought he might not be able to get up again? Or that he might be tempted to stretch out and sleep? “I could use some water,” she said.

  He shifted his PG bag off his shoulder, pulled out one of the two water bottles, and handed it to her.

  She drank, then handed the bottle back to him. Brian drank thirstily, then recapped the bottle, which she noticed was half empty, and stowed it again.

  “How about something to eat?” she asked.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  That wasn’t good. He should be as starved as she felt. The fever must be curbing his appetite. She’d found a few blueberries—a very few—on a bush and stuffed them down, but her stomach had been gnawing at her to be fed for the past hour. “Would you mind if I have something?”

  He handed the PG bag to her. “I’m not sure there’s much left.”

  She rooted through the bag and realized there was nothing left except a few packets of coffee. She’d forgotten that they’d eaten the last Snickers yesterday. No sense reminding him they were out of food, if he didn’t already know. She handed the bag back to Brian and said, “I can wait if you can.”

  “Pretty soon there won’t be enough of you left to squeeze,” he teased.

  Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “Look who’s talking. If I’m not mistaken, you’re an inch away from having your belly against your backbone.”

  He laughed. “You noticed?”

  She focused her eyes on his belly and the memory of everything that had happened in the stream that morning came racing back. She lifted her gaze and saw her feelings of desire reflected back in his eyes.

  He swallowed hard, then said, “Ready to go?”

  “Not really.”

  “We can’t stay here, Tag.”

  She knew he was right, but he looked flushed and feverish. She wondered where he was finding the will to go on…and what she would do when he could no longer keep moving.

  “Shouldn’t we have seen that mountain by now?” she asked.

  “Yeah. But we could be off just a little and miss it.”

  “I’ve noticed you checking the compass. Which way have we been heading?”

  “Southwest.”

  She didn’t know why she’d bothered asking. They were in one of the most remote areas of the United States. No cell service, no roads, no nothing. It was beginning to dawn on her just how small their chances were of being found. She’d noticed Brian had followed the stream all morning, but she hadn’t heard it for quite a while.

  “How far are we from the stream?” she asked.

  “It’s off to the east a little.”

  “Why aren’t we following it?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you, but it petered out.”

  “It just…stopped?”

  “Headed underground, I guess.”

  “So, no bath tonight?” she said ruefully.

  “Not unless we find a pond or a hot spring or another stream.”

  “I vote for a hot spring,” she said, rising from the ground, conceding that it was necessary to keep walking.

  “Just make sure before you jump into some pond that it isn’t filled with sulfuric acid.”

  “Are you kidding? Yellowstone has springs that can dissolve bones?”

  “The ones I know about are farther north, near Montana,” he said. “But yeah, they’re deadly. Any hot springs we find will more than likely roast human skin.”

  “Remind me to stick something in besides my finger to test the temperature,” she muttered.

  “Just be careful, and you’ll be fine.”

  She wondered what other pitfalls lay in wait out here, things she knew nothing about. If anything happened to Brian, she’d be…

  There was no longer an “if” attached to that statement. Brian was sick and getting sicker. She was going to need all her wits and wisdom to take care of both him and herself.

  She heard a rumble of thunder and looked over her shoulder. “What do we do if we get lightning with this rainstorm?” she asked. “I mean, is it better or worse to be here in the forest?”

  “It would be worse if we were out in the open. In that case, we would need to find a ravine where we could crouch and be the lowest thing on the horizon. Right now we need to look for a copse of trees smaller than the rest and hang out there. Not standing up, but not flat along the ground, either.”

  “Crouched, then.”

  He nodded.

  She heard a thunderclap and felt the first raindrop hit her nose. It was followed quickly by several more. And then, by a deluge.

  She shrieked and hurried to the closest tree to seek shelter under its limbs.

  “Not there! Over here.” He’d headed for a smaller group of trees, just as he’d instructed her to do not a minute ago.

  She watched as he tried, and failed, to ease himself down on his haunches. He made a face and bit back an oath, then dropped onto his butt under one of the shorter trees. The flexibility that he’d had that morning, the ability to squat next to her, was gone, which meant his wound was inflamed again. Likely his leg had swollen too much for him to easily bend it.

  “This is not how it’s supposed to be done,” he said. “But damn it, this is the best I can do.”

  She knelt beside him. “How about if I spread the chute in the limbs to give us a little protection from the rain?”

  “Sure. If you want to bother with it. I doubt it’s going to help much.”

  Taylor took the parachute from him and shook it out across several of the lower limbs and then crawled under it. She noticed that instead of standing to move under the chute, Brian simply used his arms to scoot closer to her, then leaned his back against the tree. She was sure there was some sort of rule against that, too, but he was obviously not in good enough shape anymore to keep himself upright without support.

  “I love thunderstorms.” She always had. But she’d rarely been out in the open like this when one occurred. A moment later, jagged lightning streaked across the sky and struck horrifyingly close to them. She could smell the stench of cordite and the hairs on her arms stood up as though electrified.

  Taylor shuddered. “That was a bit too close for comfort.”

  She moved closer to Brian, and he slid a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  “If we were doing this right,” he said, “we should be keeping our distance from each other.”

  It took her a moment to realize what he meant. “So if lightning strikes one of us, it won’t get both of us?”

 
His lips quirked. “You got it in one.”

  She heard thunder boom and pressed herself closer to him. “To hell with that.”

  Brian lifted her and settled her in his lap. “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”

  She laid her head against his shoulder and slid her arms around his neck. “I’ve never understood what that saying meant.”

  “If the punishment for a bad action (sitting too close together) and an even worse one (holding you in my lap) are the same (death by lightning strike), there’s no reason not to do the worse one.”

  “Makes sense.” She pulled his head down so she could reach his mouth and gently kissed him. She began tugging his shirt up with one hand while she slid the other into his hair.

  They weren’t going any farther today. Brian’s fever was back. The only water they had was what he carried. It no longer mattered that she was a Grayhawk, and he was a Flynn. It no longer mattered that he’d used his pain as an excuse not to make love to her that morning. This was likely the beginning of the end for both of them, unless a miracle happened.

  And she’d never had much faith in miracles.

  “What are you doing, Tag?”

  “Taking our lives in my hands by getting really, really close. After all,” she said, smiling against his lips, “might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”

  “WHAT IS THAT?” Leah said, pointing to a melted mess near a downed tree. “That looks like—”

  “It’s Brian’s radio.” Aiden shoved aside several burned limbs, then kicked at something metal. It was the half-crushed, blackened cargo box. “This burned up with a lot of stuff still inside.”

  She was surprised by how calm he sounded. Either they were very close to finding her sister and his brother, or they’d just found evidence that the two of them had perished. Either way, she’d expected more of…something…from Aiden.

  Then she heard the excitement she’d been expecting.

  “Look! Look here!”

  She hurried over to see where he was pointing. “What am I supposed to see?”

  “This tree trunk. See where the bark is missing on the other side? Someone’s been hacking at it!”