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“Our mission is to search for the truth, not create speculation,” Rowan stood at the trailhead in front of a slew of reporters. Word had gotten out, and it was interfering with his efforts to find her. The U.S. Forestry Service had taken over the search. Meanwhile, the Network had insisted he personally address the media. “We are concerned for Lauren’s well-being and we will not rest until she’s returned safely.” He stepped away from the mic. He did not take any questions.
Rowan knew there was plenty of speculation that their Field Producer had been abducted by Bigfoot. Everyone from CNN to TMZ had put the theory out there, and everyone was beginning to believe it. Tabloid headlines declared “Adventure Show Host Abducted by Bigfoot.” Lauren was going to be furious. If they found her. And if... He didn’t allow himself to even think the rest of that sentence.
“Mr. Pierce. This way. The chopper is waiting.” The park rangers arranged for him to ride in one of the helicopters flying over the area, looking for any sign of Lauren. They surveyed the area in an intentional grid pattern, combing the trees, straining their eyes to see a flash of metal from her signal mirror, or a whiff of smoke from a fire.
Rowan took a great deal of comfort in knowing that Lauren was trained to survive in the wilderness, but her recent injuries troubled him. She had suffered a concussion in the first attack. Head trauma could do strange things to people. When he’d been a medic in Afghanistan, he had seen soldiers suffer traumatic brain injuries and turn on their own troops. One of his comrades took shrapnel from a mortar blast, then asked him if he’d tried their mother’s apple pie yet. Ten minutes later, he was dead. He’d suffered a massive aneurysm. Concussive trauma effects were not always immediate, and delayed reactions were not uncommon. She could have run off chasing rabbits or become disoriented. The thought that someone or something had taken her was more than he could bear.
Rowan wasn’t buying the theory that she’d gone to the bathroom and lost her way. That wasn’t the Lauren he knew. She had an impeccable bump of direction. He had gone with her on more than one occasion when she led a team through the darkest jungles and come out the other side within 50 yards of where she was supposed to be, without any navigational aids.
She knew how to keep herself alive. She could catch a fish with her bare hands, bite its head off, and eat it raw. She could build a fire without flint or matches, and she could find water in the middle of the desert.
In her college days, she spent her summers in Alaska working for National Geographic when an aggressive grizzly attacked her tent. She managed to flee, wounded, but undaunted. She escaped from the bear, who decided her pack of military rations were far more interesting than a lean researcher. It was a rookie mistake; leaving food in her tent. She had a locker, but she didn’t think the sealed pouch would attract any attention. She had been wrong.
With a mangled arm and numerous bite and claw wounds, she had managed to get back to civilization. Once mended, she headed right back up to her camp. She salvaged what was left, collected her data, and continued her research.
It had taken her three days, then. She’d been gone now for six. Each passing hour made them worry more. Bahati hadn’t eaten in two days, and when Jean-René tried to force her to eat, she threw up. She spent the rest of the afternoon crying in her tent.
The team tracked down Lauren’s transponder and found it just down the hillside from where she and Jean-René had been attacked. Without it, they had no way to track her.
Jean-René, Rob and Chance went out every few hours, calling her name while scouting the animal trails around their camp. The park service captain, Ranger Kent Derry, took a team into the nearby caves to look for her, but came back empty-handed, several hours later.
“It’s just one big lava tube. It’s about 14,000 feet long and there are too many twists and turns. It’s open to hikers year-round, and we’ve never lost anyone in there yet. It’s not likely she’s there, but I can’t give you a 100% guarantee. We’ll send a team over to Smith Creek and Lava Canyon, tomorrow, if the weather permits.”
“What’s the forecast?” Rowan asked.
“It’s not good. Conditions on the mountain can change at a moment’s notice. Could have freezing rain, maybe snow,” he said. “We need to be ready for anything if you’re not willing to evacuate.”
“We’re not leaving.” Rowan remained stoic.
“Well, I can’t say as I blame you, but you best be ready to hunker down and wait out a big storm.”
“We’ve done it before,” Jean-René said to the ranger. “Remember Nepal?” He turned to Rowan.
“Yeah.” Rowan blanched, his ankle throbbing in response. “I remember Nepal.” There was a long pause. “Let’s hope it’s not as bad as Nepal.”
Before this, Rowan hadn’t thought anything could be worse than Nepal. They’d been making the trek towards basecamp on Everest when an unexpected storm came over the great mountain. They’d been so excited when they found the suspected Yeti-track. They were anxious to get back to civilization and get the cast to their experts back in the States. Their enthusiasm carried them for a time, but as the storm grew worse, Rowan knew they needed to hunker down and ride it out. Instead, he chose to push through, believing base camp was within reach. It was a mistake he paid for in pain. Crossing a crevice on snow ladders, Rowan lost his grip and slipped through. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he tried to turn and catch the ladder on one side as he fell. It worked, but the ladder flipped with his ankle still between the rungs. The gut-wrenching breaking of bone had been audible, and the sound of his own pained cry echoing in the crevice still lingered with him. The ache in his bones was a constant reminder of how close he came to death.
This time, he made the decision to hunker down. He wouldn’t leave without Lauren. He hoped she knew it—wherever she was.