CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

One missed dinner, and Jeremiah’s coworkers made Berdie’s uncle Stockton seem like a reasonable guy. The rain slicker Jeremiah had given Madison was stocked with jerky, trail mix, and a water bladder. She had a similar stash in her daypack, only leaning more to the sweet side. Those who had neglected to prepare now expected the rest of the group to provide for them. Jeremiah was not inclined to share. A little hunger might drive the survival lessons home.

“How were we supposed to know we’d be stuck in the woods?” Fern asked.

“Are you crazy?” Madison asked. “That was the whole point of this camp. We aren’t responsible for those of you who weren’t paying attention.”

“Lighten up, Wilhelm,” Bender said. “Rescue is coming in the morning. Surely you can share your five hundred candy bars with the rest of us.”

He held out a hand, but Madison ignored him. Berdie crouched beside Jeremiah.

“You see how quickly they’ve degenerated from civilized people into marauding barbarians,” she whispered. “We have to be ready for anything.”

Berdie patted her side, and the telltale lump of a firearm. Jeremiah nodded.

“Locked and loaded,” he whispered. He inclined his head toward his vest, where his Smith & Wesson rested in an inner pocket.

A few saps relented and shared their food with the others. With hunger temporarily staved off, the group began a new discussion, full of whining and complaints.

“The bus ride here wasn’t that long.” Candace tugged Ellen’s spare hiking slacks over her short shorts. “It can’t be far to camp. We just follow the river, right?”

“Are you kidding?” Shirley asked. “There was a reason the road is on the other side of the creek. Didn’t you notice the cliffs on the drive here?”

“It’s not far as the crow flies,” Tweet said. “But we’re not crows.”

“I’m staying put until rescuers arrive,” Shirley said.

Berdie stood. “Quit arguing and help me get a fire going.” She pointed a finger at Shirley. “Any cracks about my firemaking skills and I use you for kindling.” Directing her words to the rest of the group, Berdie continued. “The light of a fire will draw in both stragglers and rescuers. We can boil water and make tea. Does anyone have instant coffee?”

There was a small stash of dry firewood under the A-frame, but it wouldn’t be enough for the entire night.

“Jeremiah,” Berdie continued, “please take charge of shoring up this shelter.”

“Pine boughs?” He pointed to the two open sides of the A-frame. “Wouldn’t take much to block out most of the rain and wind. Then I’ll get some dry wood.”

Jeremiah extracted a small hatchet from his daypack and removed the leather case protecting the sharp blade.

Madison shrugged out of the rain slicker and held it out. “You’ll need this.”

“Chopping wood will keep me warm. It’s still cold in here. You keep it.”

“I insist,” Madison said. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

Jeremiah had no doubt of her claim. Madison Wilhelm had more than proved herself.

Aubrey left ostensibly to search for firewood, but she wandered as far as she dared, shining her flashlight toward Gold Hill, hoping to signal the shelter’s location to any hikers out there, one of whom was her husband.

Pastor Olufemi approached with an armload of branches. “He will be okay.”

“Thanks,”Aubrey said, “but you don’t know that.”

“Perhaps I do. Whether or not he makes it back.”

Aubrey understood he was speaking in spiritual terms. That did nothing to ease her fears, and her lips trembled.

“Althea did not want me to come on this last challenge,” Omari said. “If I had listened to my wife, I would be back at camp, lounging in front of a warm fire inside a dry cabin.”

“I could have stayed behind, too. My job’s not at stake.” Aubrey wiped a damp sleeve across her face. “I wanted to keep an eye on Grant. I didn’t do so well at that.”

Omari chuckled. “We were all so anxious to keep our jobs and win a raise, and now we really are struggling for survival.”

Aubrey failed to see the humor. She stared into the darkness.

“I was angry when Grant partnered with Frank instead of me,” Aubrey said. “I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t treat my husband like Nel treated Stewart, but I couldn’t stop myself. What if those were our last words?”

“You felt abandoned,” Omari said. “It was natural for you to be upset. Grant is a Pinon Pine troop leader. He is well prepared to spend a night in the wilderness.”

Aubrey shivered as a thought insinuated itself into her mind. If Grant had to spend the night out there, he would not be alone. Veronica was with him. Omari finally convinced her to return to the safety of the shelter. When they dropped their wood under the A-frame, Shirley grabbed a branch.

“We can’t keep a bonfire going,” Berdie said. “There’s not enough dry wood.”

“But I’m freezing,” Shirley said.

“If the flames get much higher,” Jeremiah said, “it’ll catch our shelter on fire. Then we’ll be stuck out in the cold rain.”

The suggestion that things could get worse dampened conversation. A glum silence settled over the feeble campfire.

Aubrey was the first to see the wobbling glow of a handheld flashlight bobbing and sweeping, growing larger. She stood, wanting to run to see who it was, but fearing she would trip over a rock in the dark. As the light neared, Tweet noticed.

“Someone’s coming.”

When Grant ducked under the A-frame, Aubrey threw her arms around him. Sam straggled inside next, supporting Veronica. The sole of one of her expensive running sneakers flopped like a clown shoe. The three collapsed near the fire. The cranky campers enjoyed relief from obsessing about their own troubles as the newcomers shared their story.

“When the rain started pouring,” Sam said, “we found a mine shaft. A real one, not the open pits we’d mostly seen. We thought we could ride out the storm until morning, but then one wall started crumbling. Obviously we made it out okay, but it was close.”

“My shoe fell apart,” Veronica said. “The manufacturer owes me big time.” She wiggled her foot, making the sole slap up and down. “Maybe I should have thrown it away and gone barefoot like you, Sotheara. But the rocks hurt my feet.”

Sotheara dug her mud-crusted toes in the dirt. “Your feet get toughened up fast.”

“The one thing I didn’t bring was duct tape,” Grant said.

“I’ve got a roll,” Jeremiah said.

Indeed, in his woodland camouflage backpack, he had an entire roll of the heavy-duty silver tape. While Jeremiah wrapped Veronica’s shoe, she began her version of the story that Sam had just told. Aubrey and Grant snuck out of the A-frame. The rain had stopped. Damp earth and pine scented the crisp night air.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said.

“I was worried sick,” Aubrey said. “Everyone else is either here or back in camp.”

“There was no cell phone signal on Gold Hill. I tried to call. All that stuff you were trying to tell me before—” Grant hesitated, glancing over his shoulder before continuing. “About Stewart’s death and Harv’s wreck not being accidents. Jessie’s concussion, then Doug being shot with an arrow. I had a hard time believing there was a killer in the camp. I believe you now.”

“Did you hear something?” A confession, Aubrey hoped.

“Saw. A rock nearly struck Bender. Rankin pushed him out of the way. Of course, Bender just got mad at Rankin. I caught a glimpse of someone on the hillside above us, but he, or she I suppose, disappeared before I could tell who it was.”

“Where was Candace?”

Grant frowned. “I couldn’t say. The trail was thick with boulders and scrub oak. Anyone could have been nearby.”

“Bender claimed someone tried to kill him when he fell in the mine pit, so when he started the same song and dance about being hit with a rock, people chalked it up to self-centered paranoia. We were more worried about Lavelle at the time. And then Rowdy.”

Aubrey filled Grant in on those incidents quickly.

“That explains the helicopter.” Grant pulled her into a hug. “This entire trip was a mistake.” He leaned back, studying Aubrey’s face, his green eyes teary. “When we get home, we’re doing some serious talking about our future.”

“If we have a future. We’re not out of this yet.”