*Dante scrubbed at his face and swirled a mouthful of water around his teeth. The night creatures that made the national park their home fell silent as searchers approached them, but he could hear crickets and other bigger things in the distance, including other searchers.
“Jem! Jemima Davis!”
Dante glanced at Mick to his left. They’d been at it since joining the group they’d been assigned to had left at midnight. He tapped his phone screen.
Four-thirty AM.
He could see the trees and rocks taking more shape beyond the bright beams of their LED torches, the tall eucalypts and pines delineated against the rapidly paling pre-dawn gloom. He had no reception out here; the wildly folding landscape of cliffs with sheer drops falling hundreds of feet into impossible-to-traverse ravines, then shooting up to immense mountains, did not allow mobile phone signals to penetrate.
Each group had UHF radios, and a satellite phone to talk to base.
They all had scratches and scrapes, despite the thick material of the bright orange with reflective stripes, standard-issue SES long-sleeved shirt and pants. A few of them had taken tumbles over the smaller rocks and branches not seen properly underfoot.
He was one of them. His knee throbbed even now, hours after he’d face-planted in front of everyone. No one had laughed, though, the seriousness of the waning hours not lost on any of them.
If Mrs Davis was out here, they had to find her soon. While it wasn’t freezing, the mountain air had a crisp note to it that wouldn’t be kind to an unwell, aging woman with no jumper.
Ewan, the senior SES unit leader of their group, stopped them and talked for a moment, then pointed off in front of the group of searchers. “Spread out a little, but make sure you can see clearly. Don’t leave any gaps.”
Dante nodded and moved off to his right. He turned at a tap on his shoulder. Mac’s lips twisted in the semblance of a smile. He’d come out with them, unable to stay behind at the tent a moment longer.
“She didn’t mean it, you know.”
Dante looked away into the now not-so-gloomy distance. There was no use pretending he didn’t know what Mac was talking about. Half the SES command centre had heard.
… For something that isn’t real.
Even now, hours later, it shafted pain deep inside to twist and claw where his heart should’ve been.
Maybe even more so than when she’d said it.
“Sure felt like it.”
“She’s desperate, Dante. She was just lashing out. She saw you and, I don’t know, it must have finally hit her. Don’t they say we always hurt those closest to us?”
Dante scrubbed at his eyes and moved to the outside of the line of twelve volunteers. He looked over and gauged how far apart he and Mac should be and started moving forward with the rest.
Random shouts calling out Jem’s name were interspersed with a bated silence, hoping against all the mounting odds that someone would hear a response.
He didn’t want to talk about it, not here and not now. Besides the fact that they had to stay quiet to hear any possible sounds from Mrs Davis, he wasn’t in the mood to dissect it with Mac.
The worst part was, she was right.
Neither he nor any of his brothers had long-term relationships. Barring Angel, and that had ended badly. He hadn’t thought about it much, if he was being totally honest. It wasn’t like he was a serial dater or anything like that. More often than not he was alone.
Or rather, he was with Belle.
That was something she apparently hadn’t considered. He’d been in the constant company of a girl, then a woman, since he was five.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want a girlfriend.
He’d wanted a very specific one.
He glanced up and realised the sun was starting to peek over the rise behind him, slowly illuminating the thick scrub in front of them.
“Dante! Move closer in. You’re straying.”
Dante looked across to Ewan and stepped to his left. He hadn’t realised how far he’d gone from the rest of the line while drifting in his thoughts.
Pay attention, Casellati!
A small, out-of-place sound had him halting mid-step.
He tilted his head, listening hard.
There it is again.
He spun to his right, looking towards a shallow depression surrounded by thick scrub in the distance. His eyes caught on something snagged on a bush and he squinted.
Is that …
He hurried through the undergrowth to the edge of the dip.
“Dante! What is it?”
Mac’s voice brought his head around. A massive smile widened his mouth, matching the sheer relief and joy rushing through him.
“I’ve found her!”
He noticed the shock register on Mac’s face as he spun back toward Jem Davis, lying in the hollow at his feet. He knelt beside her and pressed two fingers to her cold throat.
Tears stung his eyes. A pulse. Weak, but there.
He hauled off his shirt, something they weren’t supposed to do, and laid it over her front and tucked it gently to her sides. It was warm from his body heat. He’d be fine. It was early summer, after all. The morning might be cool, but it would warm up fast.
She needed it. She was too cold, her body temperature had dropped too low from the night outside wearing nothing but a thin, and now ripped, summer dress.
Noise surrounded him. He looked up to see Ewan drop to his knees and yank open his backpack. He pulled out a heat blanket and tucked it around Jem from neck to toe, while checking for obvious injuries.
“She’s too cold. Her arms are all scratched up, and her shins.”
The concern in Ewan’s deep voice had Dante doing something he hadn’t done since the day he’d learned his mother was sick.
He prayed.
“How did you know she was here? We would’ve missed her if you hadn’t gone off grid.”
Ewan’s voice brought Dante’s attention back. He pointed at the bush behind him. Ewan looked where he pointed. A torn piece of yellow fabric fluttered in the slight breeze.
“How in blue blazes did you see that? It wasn’t even full light.”
Dante shrugged. “I guess we were meant to find her.”
Ewan sat back and shook his head slowly. “No, you. You were meant to find her.”
*
Dante stood back and shielded his eyes against the flailing eddy of wind and debris caused by the downdraft from the rescue helicopter’s rotors.
Moira held the chopper steady while her crew winched the basket containing Jem Davis into the air and up into the fuselage. Mac’s sister was a hell of a pilot, only recently having been discharged from the army. She’d come home to spend time with her large and rambunctious family.
Dante closed his eyes and breathed out as slowly as he could, trying to calm his crazed heartbeat.
She would be safe. Mrs Davis would get to the hospital and be fixed up as good as new, albeit sporting some bandages for her efforts.
She’d briefly opened her eyes and stared at him while the air ambulance guys had bundled her safely onto the basket. Recognition had flared for a brief moment. A happy smile had brightened her face as she’d reached for him, then winced in pain at the movement. The spark of recognition faded as fast as it had appeared as they strapped her in.
Mac waved to his sister as the chopper banked and pulled away, heading straight for the city.
“How on earth did she get so far? And in here, of all places. What must have been going through her head?” Mac said.
Dante shook his head. “No idea. Maybe she saw the trail and thought it was a way out, a way home?”
While there were many hiking trails the rangers maintained and traversed regularly, there were even more wildlife trails that wound off into the thick forest, leading deeper to far more treacherous places. They could get a person turned around and lost faster than seemed possible.
Ewan whistled, catching their attention.
“Okay, everyone. Now that the excitement’s over, we get to walk back to the truck.”
A chorus of moans and not-so-muffled cursing peppered the morning air. It was a good four-hour hike back to where they’d left the unit truck.
A female ranger led the way and they fell into line behind her, Ewan bringing up the rear. His large hand fell to Dante’s shoulder, stopping them from following the rest.
“Try not to worry about what happened with Belle. This was a pretty unique situation. People say all sorts of horrible things they don’t mean when under extreme pressure. I’ve seen it too many times to count. Don’t give up on her.”
Dante nodded and mumbled a reply. There wasn’t much else he could do.
Everyone knew what had gone down between him and Belle. As galling as that thought was, at this point he couldn’t muster the strength it took to care. Ewan pointed up the rise to the rapidly disappearing group.
“Hustle, Casellati. We don’t want them to have to come back looking for us, now.”