Fletch
My plan had been to grab whatever dry wood I could find so we could get a fire going. It gets cold at night up here, especially when you’re soaking wet. Unfortunately, that wood has probably washed down the creek by now.
I’d just been making my way across when I heard the crack and barely managed to jump out of the way when this damn tree came down. For a few minutes there my heart stopped until I was able to reach Nella. I was worried I’d find her crushed underneath.
Couldn’t have handled another death on my conscience.
Another loud rumble of thunder outside has the woman across from me scuttle farther away from the opening. It’s quite the storm and, so far, doesn’t show signs of letting up. The crevice we’ve found shelter in isn’t that big—probably not even enough room for me to stretch out in—but at least it’s dry.
“Not a fan of thunderstorms?”
I barely see the shine of her eyes as she turns them to me.
“No,” she confirms in a shaky voice.
“We’re safe here,” I assure her. “We just need to wait it out.”
Which reminds me, I’d better let Sully know where we are.
“Sully, you there?”
“…Affirma…”
The weather is messing with the radio signal.
“We found shelter, west side of the creek. Do you have an update on the weather? Over.”
“Repeat.”
I do as he asks, hoping enough of my message gets through.
“…storms coming…north. Sh…early morning.”
Fuck. Sounds like we’ll be stuck here until daylight.
“Roger. Out.”
I slip the radio back on my belt and unclip my backpack, pulling it in front of me. I want to take stock of our supplies, I’m sure the night will be a long one. First thing I grab is my flashlight, which I turn on before putting it down. Then, one by one, I empty the rest of my pack on the ground in front of me.
Water flask, three protein bars, a length of rope, my multi-purpose tool, first aid kit, a small mirror, matches and a flint, spare ammo, water purification tablets, fishing line and a hook, and at the bottom of the pack I find the solar blanket. I also have a compass on my watch and of course the radio. We’re not doing too bad.
The sound of rustling has me look over at Nella, who is following my lead and is emptying out her smaller pack. It’s basic, but not bad. She has some food and a water bottle as well, which along with mine, should be enough to sustain us through the night.
“Apple?”
I notice her hand holding up the fruit is still shaking but the panic has gone from her eyes. When I found her earlier, she was out of it—looked like she was having a panic attack—but all it took was a bit of coaxing for her to snap out of it. Not sure what triggered it in the first place, but it’s clear she’s not a fan of thunderstorms, and she did narrowly escape an unfortunate encounter with a tree. She may be shaking but she’s tougher than I would’ve given her credit for.
“We can split,” I suggest, using my blade to slice it in half before handing her portion back to her.
We eat the apple in silence, each lost to our own thoughts until Nella speaks up.
“I hope Pippa has shelter.”
“She’s been out here a while so I’m sure she has,” I offer.
That is, if she’s still alive, but I keep that to myself. Even if she is, our chances of tracking her down have been greatly reduced by this storm. Any traces will have been washed away by the time this is done.
A reasonably healthy person can survive without food for several weeks, but not without water. My gut tells me if Nella’s sister is still alive, she won’t have ventured too far from the creek. And if she’s smart, she would’ve headed downstream.
Cedar Creek runs into the Kootenay River, just a few miles north of Libby. I’m guessing the distance from here to the river, which runs parallel to the US-2, is about four-and-a-half miles as the crow flies. Healthy, she should’ve been able to make that in a day, even in this terrain. But I’ve seen the blood, she may well be injured and hunkered down.
Or, she’s dead.
A light clicking noise has me looking over at Nella. She has her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. The clicking is from her teeth chattering. She’s freezing.
I grab the Mylar blanket and crawl over to her. When I touch the back of her hand it’s like an ice cube. I’d intended to wrap her in the blanket, but feeling how cold she is I think better of it.
“Scoot forward a bit.”
As soon as she moves, I slide behind her, my back against the rock wall as I pull her between my legs, covering us both with the blanket. She doesn’t protest and seems to press herself into the heat still radiating from me.
“Tell me about your sister. What’s she like?”
My real interest is in Nella herself, but I figure I could probably find out more about her this way than to ask her directly. Somewhere between our first face-to-face meeting and now, this woman has stirred my curiosity. I know she’s tenacious, I know she has balls, and I know she’s protective enough to step well out of her comfort zone to find her sister. I’ve also been able to deduce from remarks she made that they have no direct family left, that Pippa is the adventurous one of the two, and that Nella prefers the safety of a boring life.
Or so it appears.
“She’s a mechanic,” Nella surprises me by sharing. “She always marched to her own drum, sometimes to the despair of our parents. When I chose piano lessons, Pippa opted for the electrical guitar. She wanted to play soccer instead of the dance classes I was enrolled in.” She chuckles softly, her back against my chest gently shaking. “She was determined to be unpredictable, but by the time she announced she wanted to fix cars for a living, not even my parents were surprised.”
She’s suddenly quiet and I immediately miss the soothing sound of her voice.
“You lost your parents,” I prompt, interpreting her abrupt silence as grief.
I feel her nod.
“They’ve been gone for a long time,” she confirms.
“You must’ve been young.”
“I suppose. Although I’d graduated university and was already working at the time. My sister was still in college though. It was tough on her.”
It doesn’t take much imagination to deduce Nella took over the parental role, putting aside her own grief to help her sister through hers.
“She can’t be that much younger than you are,” I point out.
“Three years.” Then she shifts slightly and twists her neck so she can look at me. “Is that your way of finding out how old I am without asking my age?”
My grin is involuntary at the unexpected tease.
“I’m forty-seven if that makes it easier,” I confess and grin wider when her mouth falls open.
“Forty-seven? That is entirely unfair.” She’s clearly annoyed. “Why is it that men generally age better than women? It’s like nature is determined to announce our gender has an expiration date when guys get unlimited shelf life. Gray hair enhances a man’s looks, but we’re supposed to dye it to hide the evidence. It’s just wrong.”
Amused, I pick up a strand of her hair. It’s almost dry and shows the occasional silver strand.
“You don’t dye yours,” I point out. “I like it like this. It’s real.”
She huffs but doesn’t say anything.
“Forty-eight?” I taunt her, knowing full well she can’t be much over forty. Not with that flawless skin and those plump lips.
“I am not,” she huffs, jerking away from my chest. “Forty-three, if you must know.”
Chuckling softly, I ease her rigid spine back against me. She’s long stopped shivering and seems to have forgotten about the continuing thunder outside.
Then I lean forward and put my lips by her ear.
“For your information, I wouldn’t have given you a day over forty.”
Nella
I startle awake and it takes me a moment to remember where I am.
The first thing I notice is the absolute silence. No wind, no rain, and no thunderstorm. Light is coming in from outside and I try to push myself up when my hand encounters firm muscle.
“Morning…”
Fletch’s gruff voice sounds even raspier than normal, and far too close to be decent.
I catapult myself to the opposite side. When I look back at him, he’s wearing a sardonic smile on his far-too handsome face. He’s still sitting with his back against the rock, his hair standing on end—probably run through with his hand a few times—but it does little to dull the overall appeal.
I’m trying to come to terms with the fact I slept cuddled up to this man, when my bladder suddenly announces itself. Urgently. I’m stuck in a hole in the rock the size of a generous closet…with Fletch, and I desperately need to pee.
Fletch gets to his feet and makes his way over to the opening, bracing himself with a hand as he sticks his head outside.
“Weather’s cleared. We should be able to get out of here,” he announces, turning back inside to grab his pack. “I’m just going to find us a safe way down. Won’t be long, so do what you need to do.”
Then he disappears outside.
He must’ve noticed me squirming. Normally I’d be mortified but the urge to relieve myself is too big. I retreat as far from the opening as I can get and struggle to get my jeans down. My clothes have dried on my body overnight and my hair is probably a bird’s nest. I feel grimy but there’s not much I can do about that so I quickly squat, holding onto the wall to keep my balance.
When I step out—feeling much better—the bright sun is almost blinding. Blinking a few times, I peek over the ledge to see the tree I clambered up last night and the creek below, still churning with debris. I’m not exactly looking forward to taking the same route down we came up. I look around me for other options. The ledge I’m standing on ends abruptly on one side but looks to extend for about twenty feet on the other, before it disappears where the rock face curves back.
That’s where a few moments later Fletch steps into view.
“Ready?” he asks when he reaches me.
“Yes.”
“Follow me and stick close to the wall.”
I see why when we round the corner. The ledge narrows to maybe half a foot and I hesitate, the drop is much farther here than where we were.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” he says as he pulls the rope from his pack and ties one end around my waist. The other side he wraps around himself. “It’s only a few feet before we get to the trees.”
I glance around him to find the few feet he’s talking about are at least twenty. That’s a long way to be hanging over what has to be a thirty-or-forty-foot drop.
“Nella,” he says firmly, and I pull my gaze from the drop to focus on his face. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. This is the safer option; you’ll have to trust me on that.”
The kicker is, I do—I have no reason not to—and I really don’t want to go back down that tree. I give him a curt nod.
“Good. Like this,” he says, spreading his arms and hugging the rock face. “Put your weight on the balls of your feet and keep your body close to the wall.” He takes a few steps until the rope connecting us is almost taut. “You can do it. Keep your eyes on me.”
I’m afraid to blink and lose my connection with his calm eyes as I inch my feet along the ledge. My face is pressed so hard into the wall, I’m sure I’ll have scratches to show for it.
I’m a few steps from the other side where Fletch is waiting, when sudden loud static startles me and my front foot slips off the ledge. My fingertips claw into the unforgiving rock, desperately trying to find a hold, as I feel myself tip toward the drop.
“Fuck,” I hear Fletch curse as gravity pulls my body away from the mountain.
Time slows to a crawl as my arms windmill in an attempt to regain my balance and my other foot slides off the edge. For a brief moment, my body is airborne before I’m jerked to a halt by the rope around my waist. I don’t have time to brace when I slam hard into the rock face, letting out a painful yelp.
“Goddammit, Nella, you hang on,” Fletch grunts above me. “Not on my fucking watch.”
I glance up and watch him strain against my weight. He has one arm around the trunk of a tree, holding on for dear life, as he tries to pull me up with the other.
“Don’t move,” he barks when I try to grab on to a jutting piece of rock.
Inch by inch, he drags me higher until I’m eye level with his boots. Then in one heave he pulls me up and sandwiches my body between his and the trunk of the tree before my feet even touch the ground. His breath is labored against my ear and I feel his heart racing against my back.
“Jesus, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he pants.
I close my eyes and welcome the rough bark pressing into my cheek and Fletch’s safe weight behind me as I try to catch my own breath.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” I manage.
It’s a lie—just breathing hurts—but my legs feel surprisingly steady.
“Good. Let’s get away from the edge.”
I feel the loss of his body the moment he moves away but he grabs a firm hold of my hand, pulling me farther into the trees.
The slope is steep as he leads me away from the edge toward a boulder where he forces me to sit. Then he takes out his radio and turns his back. I’m silently grateful for the reprieve, my jaw is clenched in pain.
“Sully, come in.”
“…Talk to me.”
“We’re on the north side of the creek, heading downstream toward the highway. The water is still too dangerous to cross. Over.”
“Figured as much. Ewing is getting a search party ready for this side of the creek, and I’m heading down the mountain to meet up with the team.”
Fletch turns around and looks at me.
“I’m gonna need you to come toward us. Not sure if Nella can make it out. She’s hurt.”
I open my mouth to protest but he sharply shakes his head. I have no idea how he could possibly know.
“Hurt?”
“I suspect ribs. We’ll keep moving the best we can. Over.”
“Ten-four. We’ll meet you up there.”
He tucks away the radio, his eyes never leaving mine. Eventually, I start to squirm under his silent scrutiny.
“My legs are fine. I can walk,” I tell him defensively.
“From here on in you tell me when you’re hurting. Is that understood? Your heroics are dangerous out here.”
I don’t particularly care for his bossy tone, but in the past twenty-four hours this man has saved my bacon several times. I’m becoming well aware without him I’d be lost in more ways than one, so I nod my understanding.
When he holds out his hand, I don’t hesitate to take it.
“We’ll go slow and take regular breaks.”
True to his word, he stops ten minutes later when I was about to call uncle. He has me sit on a fallen log and hands me a protein bar.
“Give me your water bottle, I’ll refill them from the creek.”
I watch as he makes his way down a steep incline toward the water before taking stock of my surroundings.
It looks like we’ve come down quite a bit, the ground appears a bit more level here. Behind me I notice a tall rock formation, partially covered by moss. In front of it is a large boulder and something about it catches my eye.
I tentatively get to my feet and walk over. The closer I get, the faster my heart starts beating. I could swear I smell the remnants of a fire. The markings I spotted on the rock look more like writing but it’s not until I’m standing right in front of it, I recognize what it says.
HELP
“Fletch!”