Alaska Twilight (12 page)

She grabbed her backpack with one arm and tucked Oscar under the other, then went to the tent. Lifting the flap and stepping inside, she flipped on the lantern and dropped her pack in the corner. She put Oscar down, and he went to nose at her satchel. The unzipped contents lay open to view. She could have sworn she’d left it zipped and at the head of her sleeping bag instead of in the middle like it was now. Could Augusta have been looking for something? She pulled the bag to her and rummaged through the contents. Someone had rifled through it. The sweats she slept in were no longer on top but had been shoved down the front of the bag.

She glanced around the tent, trying to see where she’d left everything. Her memory pulled up images of how the tent had looked when she last stepped out. Augusta’s bag had been moved about a foot from the corner where Haley’s backpack now lay. The entire camp had come out to watch Tank save Oscar, and there had been no one around the camp for about an hour.

She stepped outside the tent and walked back to the fire. Augusta and Tank seemed deep in some kind of intense discussion. Probably religion. It was a good thing Haley had decided to vacate. “Augusta, were you looking for something in our tent?”

Augusta stopped midsentence. “Why no, Haley. I haven’t been in the tent since we left this morning. Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. It looks like someone has been looking through our things.”

Tank frowned. “I haven’t seen anyone near your tent since we got back. Are you sure?”

“It looks like it to me.”

“Maybe a hiker happened through camp while we were out bear watching,” Denny suggested. “Someone could have looked through the tents.”

“Maybe.” Haley shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter, since nothing is missing. I just thought it was strange. Good night.” She went back to her tent. Pouring some water into the tin cup she brought, she brushed her teeth, then sat on her sleeping bag and pulled off her prosthesis. She changed into sweats and crawled into the sleeping bag. Oscar snuggled against her.

She could feel every lump, every transition in the ground under her. Though she was tired, her mind wouldn’t shut off. When she heard Augusta coming, she rolled so her back was to the opening and shut her eyes. The last thing she needed to hear was Augusta scolding her for being rude to Tank. Maybe she had been. But that didn’t mean she wanted to listen to a lecture.

Augusta moved through the tent preparing for bed. Haley heard her grunt as she climbed into the sleeping bag.

“These old bones don’t like sleeping on the floor,” Augusta said. “I know you’re awake, Haley. You can’t fool me.”

Haley sighed and rolled over. “I was in no mood for a sermon. I know I was rude. He deserved it.”

Augusta sat up and struggled into a cross-legged position. “I can’t abide rudeness, Haley Walsh. You owe that young man an apology. Just because you’re finally here and facing what you did doesn’t mean you can take it out on someone else.”

Oscar yelped, and she realized she was squeezing him too hard. “Sorry, boy,” she muttered, loosening her grip. “I’m not taking it out on him. The shrink said to face it, and that’s what I’m doing. But I hate the sanctimonious type.”

“You know what I think about your shrink. God is the one you need to turn to. He can wipe all that away. Your guilt has affected every part of your life. It’s crushing the life right out of you. Tank is right. Out here, you can get a handle on what’s important. Your sister has been at rest for twenty years. She would want you to find some peace.”

“You make it sound so easy!” Haley sat up and faced her grandmother. “You don’t know what it’s like to be responsible for the death of someone you love.” She picked up her prosthesis and shook it. “It’s not like I can just forget about it.”

“God can heal you if you let him,” Augusta said quietly.

“He let my sister die. I prayed and prayed all night long, but Chloe died anyway. What good is prayer when he doesn’t listen? He hates me just like my parents did. Maybe Chloe would have lived if I
hadn’t
prayed!” Her throat constricted, and she couldn’t talk anymore. She flung herself back into the sleeping bag, then curled into a ball with her back to Augusta. Talking never solved anything. It never had.

“Haley, you’re acting like a child,” Augusta said. “Turn around and talk to me.”

“Good night, Augusta,” she said with as much finality in her voice as she could muster. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Augusta sighed. “Good night, Haley. I’ll pray that you will be able to accept God’s love and mercy.”

After a few more shuffles, her grandmother settled down. A few minutes later, Haley heard a gentle snore. She punched her pillow and flipped onto her back. Oscar growled in protest of her movements, and she patted his head. Sleep felt as far away as the Lower Forty-eight.

Haley rolled over and looked at her watch. 3:00 a.m. Twilight had given way to darkness, but she was wide awake. Oscar snored by her ear, and Augusta kept tune with him. She wished she could close her eyes and forget where she was. Something rustled at the tent opening. She strained to see in the darkness. It was probably the wind.

It didn’t feel like the wind. She felt a presence, a deliberate movement.
Chloe?
A shadow moved across the shaft of moonlight that peeked in through the tent opening. She tried to sit, but her muscles refused to obey. The darkness flowed as thick and seamless as midnight around her, and she squinted to make out the dark shadow. It seemed large and hulking—menacing.

Haley froze. She opened her mouth, but her throat was too tight to force out a scream. She wet her lips as the shadow moved into the tent. She reached out her hand for a weapon of some kind. Her hand closed on her prosthesis, lying beside her sleeping bag.
Move
. She heard the sound of a zipper. He was opening her backpack. The figure started to turn toward her. Oscar awakened. He snuffled, then jumped to his feet and began to bark. The intruder turned toward her. A ski mask covered his face. Drawing back her arm, Haley threw the prosthesis at the intruder. It flew through the air end over end and thumped him in the side of the head, driving him to his knees.

He took hold of the artificial limb and swiped at her backpack, catching it up. Haley threw herself across the ground and snagged one handle of the pack. “That’s mine,” she panted. She tugged the pack out of his hand as he stumbled out of the tent. “Augusta, help me!”

“What is it? Who’s there?” Augusta’s sleepy voice pulsed with alarm. She raised herself on one elbow.

Flashlights flicked on outside the tent. A beam of light moved toward their tent. “Here, in here!” Haley shouted. Her hands shook as she felt for her prosthesis but touched only the slick fabric of the tent floor. She squinted and looked around the dim light of the tent. Surely the intruder had dropped it. She couldn’t lose her leg.

The tent flap opened, and Tank rushed inside. He held the lantern aloft, and though the light was weak, it pushed back the shadows. Haley didn’t know whether to shrink back into the corner and hide her missing leg or to kiss him for chasing the darkness away. She lifted her chin and decided not to hide.

“What’s happened? Are you all right?” His gaze flickered to her face, then to the flat area of her sweats where her bottom right leg should be. His eyes widened, and then he blinked and seemed to hide his surprise.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly. “There was an intruder trying to take my backpack. Could someone get me a long stick I can use as a crutch? My prosthesis is gone, and the walking stick is too short to support me properly.” Gone. Her earlier dismay began to fade. She’d have to leave, go back to Phoenix. She’d get out of this hateful place. Her gaze fell on her grandmother’s face, and her elation ebbed. Augusta needed her here. She’d have to figure out how to get along without her prosthesis. Or get a new one.

Tank cleared his throat. “Did you get a look at the intruder?”

“It was too dark. I heard him open the zipper, so I threw my leg at him. He still tried to take my backpack, but I tackled it and managed to jerk it from his hand. It had my camera in it.”

“You think he was after your camera?”

“It’s an expensive one,” she admitted. “I guess that could have been the target. There wasn’t much else of value in it.”

Denny brought her a thick stick. “I think it’s a little long,” he said. He took off the bear amulet around his neck. “Here, a little Native magic will protect you.”

Augusta put her hand out and closed Denny’s fingers over the figure. “You keep your amulet, Denny. My prayers are protecting my granddaughter.”

Haley tried to hide her smile at her grandmother’s tact. “Thanks.” She struggled upright and leaned on the stick. “Some makeshift crutches would be useful. Something from a tree fork maybe.”

“I’ll find you something,” Tank said.

“You should have told me you were handicapped,” Kipp said. “How are you going to hike out of here with only a stick?”

“I’ll call for a plane,” Tank said. “She can’t hike out of here on crutches. Do you have access to another prosthesis?”

“I might have to go back to Phoenix for another one. Or I could call my friend, Savannah. I accidentally left my old one at her apartment when I flew into Savannah to pick up this new one.”

“Savannah from Savannah?” Erika Waters lifted an eyebrow. “I bet she gets jokes.” About thirty-five, Erika was nearly six feet tall with flaming red hair that had to come from a bottle. Haley wasn’t totally positive Erika had been born a woman. There was something about the way she walked and used her hands.

“And hates them,” Haley said. She brightened at the thought of talking to her friend. Savannah would help her put this place in perspective. “I’ll have her send it out right away.”

Kipp turned to leave the tent. “I certainly hope so. I wouldn’t be able to find another photographer of your skill and reputation easily. You signed on to do this project, and you’d better do whatever is necessary to finish it.” The tent flap closed. “We need to get some sleep before that blasted sun comes up again.”

Nine

T
he loud cacophony of birds in the spruce outside her tent wakened Haley to the full sunshine filtering through the thin tent fabric. The aroma of coffee drifted in the tent opening. Haley sat up and reached for her prosthesis, then dropped her hand. She closed her eyes. “Great, just great,” she muttered. She sat up and reached out to grab the stick Denny had brought her last night.

Instead in its place she found two cut from a tree fork. On each one, the crook seemed to fall under her arm just about right and had a knob for her hand to grab about halfway down. Tank’s thoughtfulness—she was sure it was Tank who had carefully chosen them—touched her, though her reluctance to show her vulnerability to the group remained strong.

The other sleeping bag was empty, and even Oscar had deserted her. Haley couldn’t believe Augusta had managed to get dressed and out of the tent without waking her. She quickly pulled on some Ezra Fitch jeans and several layers of tops, then tied up the right leg of her pants to keep it from dragging on the ground. Tying off the leg highlighted her stump even more. The mercury had to hover close to forty this morning, and her breath frosted the air. She pulled on her wool jacket, tested the makeshift crutches, then took a deep breath and exited the tent.

The others huddled around the fire in the middle of the clearing. “I never imagined it would be so cold here in May,” Cary Waters grumbled.

“It’s usually warmer. This weather won’t last long,” Tank said.

They saw Haley, and conversation stopped. An awkward silence stretched out. “Good morning,” she said, forcing a smile. “I hope you saved me some coffee. It smells great.” Watching carefully where she put each crutch, she swung toward the fire.

Tank sprang to his feet and pointed toward the tree stump he vacated. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you some breakfast.”

She hated to be waited on, hated to feel helpless. “Thanks.” She sank onto the stump. Oscar came to see her. He had his wiener-in-a-bun rubber toy. “How’d you get that?” she scolded. She tried to take it from him, but he squeaked it and ran off with it in his mouth.

“He was being a nuisance this morning, so I gave it to him. I can’t say it helped much,” Augusta said. “He’s been squeaking it for an hour.”

“I can usually only stand it an hour a day,” Haley said. “I thought about leaving it at home, but I knew he’d mope without it.”

“You act like that dog is a kid.” Tank handed her a steaming cup of coffee, black and aromatic.

“Thanks. Got any creamer?” She decided to ignore his comment about her dog. It was none of his business if she chose to spoil her pet. She studied him while he dug through the cache of food for the creamer. Out here he reminded her even more of Paul Bunyan. He wore a green-and-black-plaid wool shirt and jeans with muddy boots.

She looked away to see Erika watching her with a knowing smirk. Haley’s cheeks burned, and she shrugged and looked away.

Tank handed her a packet of creamer. “I’ve called for a plane. It should be here any minute. I guess we’re all going to town for some R&R.”