Buried Alive! (10 page)

“Whoa, that's a lot of money,” Jack muttered, trying to keep from showing how shocked he felt.

“But after they killed my mom, things changed. My dad started to hate his life. He told them he wanted out. Like I said, that was seven years ago, but they wouldn't let him go.”

“Why not?” Ashley said quietly.

Nicky laughed harshly. “Because in the mob, you check in, but you never check out. He was afraid for me.” Nicky's eyes closed for a moment, and he took a ragged breath. “My dad said, ‘The sins of the father are visited upon the son.' He was afraid they were always just one step behind, just one step. I know how bad he wanted to end that kind of life.”

“So—how does Chaz fit in all of this?” Jack wanted to know.

Nicky's jaw clenched tight. “He's one of them.”

“But why would he come after you?”

“Because my dad's back East testifying against the mob. They tried to get me as a hostage so they could make my dad shut up. Don't you get it? We've been in the Witness Protection Program. That's why the FBI put me into foster care under Ms. Lopez, so someone could hide me while my dad was away. She picked your family.” Nicky laughed then, an angry, bitter laugh. “Turns out I wasn't safe up in the wilds of Alaska, either. If Chaz had got me into that airplane, I'm not sure which way it would have gone for me. Alive, I'd be a bargaining chip—but only for a while. Then they'd off me.”

“What about us?” Ashley asked weakly.

“For you two…well, Chaz figured you'd die out here. Casualties of war. That's the part that's eating my guts right now, that because of me, you two nearly got killed. And if we don't get out of this place tomorrow, all of us still might die.”

Jack and Ashley stared at each other, both of them realizing that they were lucky to be alive—for now. But what would tomorrow bring? Shaking her head, Ashley murmured, “You know what I don't get? Chaz acted like he really loved those dogs, but then he could turn around and be a cold-blooded killer.”

Nicky turned his head, as if he were afraid to look at Jack or Ashley because they might despise him now. “People do a lot of things for money, Ashley. Ask my dad.” He leaned back, rubbing his shoulders against the snow wall. “I think we should get some sleep if we can. In the morning, we have to hike out of this wilderness.

It could be one long, long hike.”

I
t was impossible for the three of them to stretch out comfortably to sleep, but Jack pulled his knees to his chin, rested his arms across them, and then dropped his head down, down, into a strange dream world where the snow itself had teeth. Deeper into the water he swam. He saw Nicky, but this time Nicky had the gun, and he was taking Ashley to Philadelphia and Jack couldn't stop them. He ran after them and then he fell out of the plane…the ground rushed up to meet him and right before impact he jerked awake.

The pounding in his head was like a drum pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could barely open his eyes. In the light from the candle that still burned, he saw Ashley lying limp, and Nicky with his head sunk to one side, his skin the color of ashes. Jack struggled to sit up, but felt so dizzy he almost toppled over again. He thought he might throw up. Squeezing the top of his head with his hands, he tried to get his brain working, but his thoughts were so jumbled it was as if he were still swimming up from the bottom of that pool to get some air.

Air! That was it. Straining, he peered up, looking for the ventilation hole, but he couldn't find it. It was no longer there!

Each motion made him think his head would explode. He needed air. Desperate for air! He managed to slither toward the cave entrance and began kicking the duffel bag away. Kick, kick—feet pushing toward the salvation of fresh air, his brain screaming for oxygen. When at last he broke through, he slid outside to breathe great gulps of that precious clear fresh sweet-smelling air, but only enough to clear his head, because he had to go back to rescue the other two.

First Ashley. Inside the cave, she lay unconscious, her lips a cherry red—one of the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning, Jack's sluggish brain remembered. Dragging his sister by her feet, he pulled her outside to safety, grabbing handfuls of snow to press against her face, hoping that would shock her awake.

“What?” she mumbled.

“Can you sit up?” Jack demanded. “Breathe! Take deep breaths.”

Too groggy to fight him, Ashley did what he said. It was then Jack realized that dawn was breaking. How many hours had they lain inside that snow cave with both openings blocked—one by snow that had fallen during the night, the other by the duffel bag? While the camp stove and the candles burned oxygen out of the air—oxygen they needed to survive—the cave had filled with carbon monoxide.

“Will you keep on breathing? Promise me you'll keep taking deep breaths,” Jack croaked. He hated to leave her like this, but he had to go back for Nicky.

“Get Nicky,” she mumbled. “Help him.”

Propping her in a sitting position against the side of the snow cave, he shouted, “Remember to breathe!” and climbed again into the cave.

Nicky looked dead. For a terrifying moment, Jack thought he was too late. He quickly pulled off his glove; with a shaking hand, he pressing his fingers against Nicky's neck and felt a faint pulse, as faint as a butterfly's wing. Nicky was alive, but maybe not for long.

Because Nicky was much bigger and heavier than Ashley, getting him out wouldn't be as easy. Jack hesitated, wondering how to move him. Jack's head still throbbed, but at least his mind had become somewhat lucid again. He maneuvered himself to grip Nicky from behind, circling his arms around Nicky's chest as if they were on a toboggan together. He'd try to slide him through the entryway.

Nicky's knees crumpled awkwardly as Jack tugged and pulled and grunted with the effort. It wasn't going to work. He'd have to get out of the cave himself, then grab Nicky by his feet, pulling dead weight. Panting hard, struggling for what seemed like hours but was no more than a few minutes, Jack finally got him out.

By the time Nicky was stretched out on the ground, Ashley had begun to talk rationally again. She crawled on her knees to Nicky, leaned over him, and cupped his face in her hands, calling, “Nicky, Nicky! Wake up. Please, Nicky, wake up and talk to me. You need to breathe!”

Guilt washed over Jack as powerfully as waves of nausea. He should have known what might happen. Why had he blocked that front entrance! He knew ventilation required a flow-through. Why hadn't he at least dug a second ventilation hole? Nicky had said Jack was always right—what a joke! He'd almost gotten the three of them killed!

Slumping onto the snow, lying on his back, he stared up at the sky, where the sun had just risen over the peak, so bright in the clear cold air that it almost blinded him. Branches spread above him like Irish lace, and in the very top of them he could see the remains of a nest. It was peaceful here, quiet, like a cemetery. Twice in the past 24 hours they'd barely cheated death. They were still stranded in Denali in freezing temperatures miles from help and food. How many more times could they dodge a bullet? Was this their day to die?

His head not only throbbed, it buzzed. Buzzed like a mosquito, then more like a bee, then louder, like a wasp. With his eyes squeezed almost shut, because the light from the sun was so dazzling, he peered upward and saw motion. Not an insect, an airplane!

“Ashley!” he yelled, jumping up and then almost falling down again because he was still dizzy. “Look up there! We're rescued!”

“Can they see us?” she asked.

He didn't know if they could. None of them wore bright colors—their parkas and ski pants would look as drab against the snow as tree shadows. “Wave your arms!” he told her. “Do what I tell you. Wave your arms!”

Ashley ignored him. Instead, she unzipped the pocket in her parka and took out a folding comb.

A comb! “What are you doing?” he hollered.

Still not answering, she unfolded the comb, which had a small mirror in the handle. Holding up the mirror to catch the sun's strong rays, she angled it back and forth. “I'm sending a signal,” she told him. “They'll notice the flash.”

Jack almost laughed out loud. Trust Ashley to come up with the simplest, best solution.

The plane dropped lower in the morning sky, circled once, and buzzed them.

They'd been seen!

 

The three of them lounged in the Denali ranger's home, Jack in a large, overstuffed chair, sipping a cup of hot cocoa next to a cheerful fire. Everything in the room had been decorated in earthen hues, as though the owners had tried to package Denali's wild outdoors. Plants sprouted from every corner with broad, emerald hands that seemed to reach out, open palmed, toward furniture made from walnut and pine. The one burst of bright color came from a wall covered with photographs of the park's wildflowers: yellow Alaska poppies, pink fireweed, purple forget-me-nots, bluebells, arctic daisies, and an ivory field of cotton grass that stretched across a wide meadow.

“I'll never understand why they call such a pretty flower fireweed,” Ashley said. She was standing next to the wall with the picture of the pink flowers, her finger tracing the petals that burst from the stalk.

“Because those are the flowers that pull through after a fire,” Jack answered. “Their roots go deep. That's how they are able to survive.”

Nicky sat nestled into a recliner close to the fireplace, wiggling his toes inside thick wool socks. At his side sat a popcorn bowl holding a few unpopped kernels and next to that was a half-filled glass of soda. To Jack, Nicky looked perfectly content. Webbing his fingers behind his head, Nicky stretched lazily, then said, “Survivors, huh? Kind of like us.”

“Like us, for sure,” Ashley echoed. She went over to his side, hovering for a moment before asking, “Do you need anything, Nicky?” When she picked up the empty metal bowl the kernels rattled across the bottom, creating a sound like rain. “Want more popcorn?”

Jack put down his book and frowned. “Give me a break, Ashley. I mean, you haven't asked if I need anything, and you've already brought Nicky one bowl of popcorn. He's not an invalid.”

“I appreciate your sister's very kind hospitality,” Nicky drawled.

Jack countered, “You appreciate my sister waiting on you hand and foot.”

Nicky wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe she respects the fact that I dug out most of the snow cave.”

“You did not—we did that together. Besides, I'm the one who designed it. And I kicked the wolverine.”

“I scared it away with my shovel.”

“Guys!” Ashley cried, stomping her foot so hard her curls jiggled. “I'm the one who signaled the plane and got us rescued. You don't hear me bragging. You two have got to quit fighting!”

Snickering, Jack ducked his head and retreated once again behind his book. “We're not fighting,” he told her.

“Nah, we're just playing with you,” Nicky agreed. He picked up his glass and rattled the ice cubes. “But I would like more Coke.”

“That's great,” Ashley answered, smiling sweetly. “Get it yourself.” Sighing, she dropped onto the sofa and declared, “Like I said before, guys are so dumb!” But she couldn't suppress the lilt in her voice when she said it, because the three of them had been baiting and picking since they'd arrived yesterday morning. It felt good to tease. Normal. As if their close brush with death hadn't really happened.

Olivia's voice chattered in the background, then Jack heard her hang up the phone. A moment later, she poked her head in from the kitchen. “You kids OK in there?” she asked for the hundredth time.

“We're fine,” Jack called back. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Park headquarters.” She had a kitchen towel in her hand, which she slung over her shoulder. Olivia wore a green jogging suit, the kind that was lined inside, with a green turtleneck underneath and green slipper socks. That morning, when she asked Jack how she looked, he told her she looked like a stalk of asparagus. In reply she told him he was grounded for life. She must have forgiven him, because now she settled down on the footstool next to Jack and said, “You're never going to believe this! The lab called with their report, and I was right. I figured out how Chaz killed the wolverines.”

“What?” Ashley asked, wide-eyed. “How?”

“He drowned them.”

“Drowned them?” Jack shuddered. The good mood he'd been enjoying suddenly evaporated as he thought of the animals' final moments.

“I would never have figured it out if you kids hadn't told me exactly what Chaz said. He was right—I was stumped. No poison, no disease, no obvious sign of trauma. But I decided to check the tissue itself under a microscope, and lo and behold, I discovered ice crystals in the lungs. Those animals weren't within a mile of water, so I never would have looked for that.”

“How…” Jack started to ask.

“The police found wire cages in his home. He must have lowered the cages into water while the wolverines were inside.”

“Oh.”

Olivia shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong with Chaz. I wondered about what he said just before he took you away on his sled—that he couldn't tell the difference between male and female wolverines. I thought that was really strange since the males are so much bigger. It crossed my mind that if he was such a wolverine lover, he should have known that. I can't help but think that if only I'd been more suspicious….”

“It's not your fault, Mom,” Jack told her. “He was a sick man.”

“Not sick,” Nicky said. “Greedy.”

“You're right, Nicky,” Olivia agreed softly. “He was sick with greed.”

Just then the front door rattled open, and Steven ushered in a small woman wearing a gray national park uniform. A stiff felt hat was perched on the ranger's head, its broad rim casting a shadow over her eyes. Her olive jacket was unzipped, revealing a thick belt that had real bullets in it. Glossy brown hair had been secured at the nape of her neck with a plastic clip. When she took off her coat, Jack saw her gold badge. It read, “Annalie Wright.”

“Olivia, kids,” Steven called, shrugging off his coat. “I'd like to introduce you to Annalie. She's one of the law enforcement rangers assigned to the case.”

Olivia stood, wiping her hands on the towel before flinging it over her shoulder again. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, giving Annalie a firm handshake. “Let me take your jacket.”

“Thanks,” Annalie said, taking off her hat. When they'd settled into the living room, Annalie's smile faded. Jack could tell that whatever she was about to say was serious. For a moment they all sat there, waiting, while Annalie smoothed the pleat on her pant leg.

“Well, we found Chaz.” She cleared her throat and glanced at the floor, before raising her eyes once again to rest on Nicky's. “He was buried about 50 yards from the sled, under eight feet of snow. He's dead, Nicky. He won't be bothering you anymore.”

Nicky said nothing. The room was suddenly silent.

Jack took a breath. That's what he'd expected, but it still felt strange to hear it. Right then, the biggest feeling he had was relief, which was a strange emotion considering a man was dead.

“So, what about me?” Nicky asked slowly. “Am I OK? I mean, am I safe now?”

“Uh….” She cleared her throat again. “I can't really answer that, Nicky, but I do have some good news for you. A surprise, really.”

“A great surprise!” Steven agreed, pulling himself up out of the chair. And then, loudly, he called, “Paul, come on in!”