Fleetham said, “That should hold her.” Then the stars rocketing behind her eyes faded to black.
****
Alex paced back and forth, his long strides covering the short distance from wall to wall easily. “I hate waiting.”
“Really. I couldn’t tell. You might want to give the carpet a break.”
He and Samantha Cross were in his office at the Ministry. While Alex attempted to release his tension in nervous movement, Samantha sat rigidly still. Her anxiety was betrayed only by the edge of sarcasm in her voice.
It had been an enormous relief to learn Richard Fleetham had been in touch with the RCMP, and had scheduled a meeting for later that morning. He promised no more delays, and had appeared willing, even eager, to answer any and all questions. Fleetham had requested Alex to attend the meeting, but the RCMP had uninvited him in no unspecific terms.
Now they were waiting to hear from the team sent to the university.
Alex pulled out his phone and read June’s text again. It simply stated she had left for the mountain. He hadn’t replied. Now he felt childish for not doing so, but by this time she’d be out of cell range, and it was too late.
When it came to June, he seemed to lose his normal sense of perspective. He really hadn’t handled things well last night. She was free to go where she wanted, when she wanted. They had slept together a couple of times. That didn’t give either of them any control over the other. Isn’t that the way he’d wanted it? When he’d told her she should come live with him, he couldn’t believe the words had issued from his own mouth. And been even more shocked to discover he badly wanted her to say yes. When she’d refused, the strength of his disappointment had him reacting in anger.
He baffled himself.
The meeting had been scheduled for ten a.m. He glared impatiently at the wall clock. It was now twenty minutes after the hour. The interview would take much, much longer, but after all the false starts in the last few days he’d hoped for confirmation it had actually begun.
The phone rang. He snatched it up.
Nelson Manning’s voice came wearily over the line. “He didn’t show.”
“Again?” Alex asked uselessly, furious disbelief storming through him.
“He faked us out. He’s not here and his secretary has heard nothing from him. We waited this long, thinking he might have forgotten to tell her, but no dice.”
“Damn it, Nelson.” Alex said. “Damn it! Where is he?”
“I don’t know. The cops are getting righteously pissed off. When they do catch up with him it isn’t going to go well.”
Alex slammed down the phone. “He didn’t show.”
Samantha nodded, face grim. “I gathered that.”
He opened a filing cabinet drawer, smashed it shut, bursting with frustrated energy. “He’s got to be involved. I know it in my gut. We’ve got to find the damn man.”
“He’s holed up somewhere. A cabin, someplace he hunts from?”
Alex stared at Samantha, ice clutching his bowels. “Oh, God.”
She gave him a puzzled glance. “What?”
“June Brandt. My...” he stumbled to a stop
. My what? Lover, girlfriend, partner?
“The woman I met on Longworth Mountain. She’s out there now, on her own. And we don’t know where Fleetham is.”
“Why would he go there? What does June have to do with anything?”
Itchy fingers of worry clawed up the back of his neck. “She’s been attacked twice since I’ve known her. She works at RiverForce with Fleetham. I can’t prove it, but there has to be a connection.”
“Then why is she out there on her own?”
Because I let her go. Instead of calmly and sensibly asking her to stay where I could look after her, I pushed her away
. “I’ve got to check on her. I’ve got to see if she’s all right.”
Samantha stood up, headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Fifteen
The skin on June’s skull was so tight every follicle on her head ached. The pain was most intense on the right side, radiating down her neck into her shoulder. When she tried to lift her hands, she couldn’t elevate her arms more than a few centimetres.
Confused, she lay still, fighting through the dizziness. She should open her eyes, take stock of her situation. It took too much effort.
She smelled smoke.
Perplexed but not disturbed, she forced her eyelids up. The sky was cracked and broken, splintered by a black web, like a shattered windshield. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing against the throbbing in her brain, then opened them carefully once again.
This time, the crazy pattern above resolved itself into tangled branches and tree limbs. More bewildered than ever, she tried to sit up, and managed to struggle to her elbows. That was as far as she could get, but at least she was able to make sense of where she was.
She had been buried in a deadfall of trees. Her baggy cargo shorts, with their multitude of pockets, loops and Velcro fastenings, had been used to ensnare her. Branches were actually inside the straps and bands, binding her to the debris. She still had her backpack on her shoulders, but the straps were twisted around her arms and torso. She was wrapped almost as tight as a strait jacket.
The smell of smoke heightened, and she wriggled around, contorting her body, trying to determine where it was coming from. With the tinder dry conditions in the forest, it wouldn’t take long for even a smouldering match to grow into a malevolent blaze. Somewhere behind her head she heard crackling, and a gust of wind blew a cloud of ash toward her. She gagged and choked.
Her struggles were getting her nowhere. Taking a deep breath of the polluted air, she shouted. It was a reflex reaction. One part of her brain knew there was no help nearby. But the other part refused to go quietly.
The stifling smoke grew thicker and thicker. The snapping sounds grew louder and louder. Sweat beaded her face. The crown of her head was scorching. She fought frantically to release herself.
She twisted her neck and caught a glimpse of boiling red flames. Her struggles grew more and more desperate until, finally, she managed to free one of her arms. She squirmed out of the straps of her backpack. Now she could sit up, and get a better view of the situation.
The fire was eating its way through the vast amount of fuel provided by the deadfall, creeping ever closer. Its snapping and popping sounds had given way to a full-throated roar, and sparks fell all about, fed by the dried sap. A large ember shot toward her, and she batted it out before it burned into her pack. She attacked the branches around her legs with renewed vigour.
Hacking and yanking with her hands, she forced the branches to give way. By kicking and bucking with her legs, she was at last able to get to her knees. She broke through the web of dry branches above her. Scratched and bleeding from the bark and needles still clinging to the dead limbs, she struggled out of the confines of the trap.
Exhausted, coughing, panting, she crawled away, dragging her pack with her. She reached a large pine and leaned against the trunk, peering through dry, irritated eyes at the deadfall being greedily devoured. She was having trouble focusing. Her eyes rolled loosely in her head, and the burning light seared her brain.
The fire danced higher and higher. Branches of nearby trees burst into flames. Gathering her strength, she battled her way back up the mountain. The smoke was smothering, and the heat followed her, but she could do nothing to stop the inferno. She had to get out of the forest as quickly as possible.
She clambered out of the treeline. Gulping down great breaths of clear, clean air, she flopped on a large rock and clung to it, as a drowning woman might cling to a life preserver, face pressed to the rough surface. The pounding in her head was so severe she had to fight back nausea. Her arms and legs stung from a multitude of scratches and abrasions.
She pushed herself to a sitting position. Taking careful sips from her water bottle, she considered the situation.
The fire hadn’t burned through to the edge of the trees yet, but a huge plume of dark grey smoke gave evidence of its ferocity. The smell of burning wood, often a friendly, welcome scent, was now an ominous menace.
She searched through her pack for her cell phone. To her dismay, but not surprise, the “no service” indicator was displayed on the screen. Hope more than expectation had made her check.
The phone’s clock told her more than two hours had passed since she’d been forced to leave the lookout with Fleetham and Schwarz-Silber. She guessed she’d been unconscious for at least half an hour. If they headed straight back, the men would reach their helicopter soon.
She had a decision to make. She must get messages to the authorities, to tell them about Fleetham and Schwarz-Silber as well as the forest fire growling below. She could head straight down the mountain, circling around the flashpoint and intersect with the road, or she could follow the trail in the valley back to the tower, then head down.
With the first option, she would have to find her own way through the bush, as there would be no trail to follow. If the fire spread faster than she anticipated, it could catch up with her. And making it to the road was no guarantee she would meet anyone. If she didn’t, she would have to hike back to the village and find a phone there.
With the second option, she ran the risk of meeting Fleetham and Schwarz-Silber at the lookout. Also, there would be no chance of finding help before she reached the village. But she would be able to stay clear of the fire and might even make better time with well-defined, familiar paths to follow.
She dithered a while longer, her aching head making it difficult to think clearly. Her physical state made the decision for her. Bushwhacking through unfamiliar territory was dangerous enough when in good health. The way she felt, she would be much better off backtracking.
She savoured one last tiny sip from her water bottle. It was about half full, which, if she was careful, should do until she returned to the lookout.
Ruthless determination got her back on her feet, over the ridge, and down into the valley. Abused muscles had stiffened as she’d stewed about what to do. She couldn’t remember it happening, but she must have banged her knee. It was swollen and sore, causing her to limp. She forced herself to move just under a level of exertion that would exhaust her meagre energy. Every few minutes she rested briefly. In this cautious way she passed the first kill site.
The valley was wide and open, dotted with clumps of shaggy green willows and dark rugged rocks. She concentrated on moving forward. With every pulse beat, her injuries throbbed. Conquering pain became the centre of her existence.
That was probably the reason she didn’t see the grizzly.
It had found a large anthill and was busily engaged in pulling it apart and eating the furious insects swarming over its paws. The bear licked them off like ice cream melting on a cone. Both bear and human noticed each other at the same time. Both froze.
She was only a few metres from the animal. She spoke, her voice calm and quiet though her knees quivered. “Hello, there, big fella. No need to worry about me.” Most grizzlies avoided humans, and would back away from a confrontation unless they had to defend themselves, their cubs, or a food source. While the anthill might not seem appetizing to June, the young bear had matted fur and prominent shoulder blades. It looked like it needed whatever sustenance it could find. Despite its scrawniness, it still outweighed her by many kilograms.
It stepped toward her.
She said firmly, “You stay away, now, okay? I need to get past you, and then you can go back to eating those lovely bugs.” She raised her arms above her head in a vain effort to appear larger.
The bear peered at her with a flat, dark gaze, swinging heavily back and forth on its front feet.
It bounded toward her. She had no chance to evade.
She dropped to the ground, curling tight into a fetal position. Her hands clasped behind her head, protecting her vulnerable neck. A blow, even though muffled by the bulk of her pack, clacked her teeth together. She pulled her bent legs close to her chest, burying her face. Another blow rolled her over, but she remained clamped in position.
The bear’s hot breath ruffled her hair, tickled her ear, as it snuffled around her head. She smelled it, an odd combination of old meat and sweet grass. It made huffing noises low in its throat. A leathery nose brushed against the fingers at the back of her neck. June breathed shallowly and tried to control her racing heartbeat. Her muscles cramped with the strain of holding still. Every fibre in her being urged her to jump to her feet and run.
She nearly lost control when she felt tugging on her shoulders and heard a tearing sound. The bear was biting into her pack, ripping it open. It struggled to shred through the tough nylon material, dragging her along with each pull of its powerful jaws, scraping her across the rough, rocky ground.
****
Alex and Samantha were barely in the air when a plume of smoke, stretching straight up before flattening itself against the sky, became visible.
“Forest fire,” Samantha said.
“It’s on our way to the lookout.” Alex monitored the controls automatically, forcing himself to pay attention to the familiar tasks. He couldn’t shake the trepidation that had settled over him. “We’ll call in the coordinates.”
They skirted the billowing charcoal tower and landed gently onto the rocky mountaintop. Samantha jumped out as soon as it was safe and headed to the grey-sided building. Alex hadn’t even had a chance to finish securing the aircraft before she returned.
“No one there. But there’s a sleeping bag on the bed and food in the cupboards. She’s probably gone for a hike.”
“I have to make sure.” Alex pulled out a long barrelled rifle from the storage compartment. “She could be anywhere, but let’s head toward where we found the first grizzly carcass. If we don’t see her after half an hour or so we’ll come back here.”