Courage Dares (17 page)

"Don't worry," Connor said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't bring out all our food."

"Oh. That's why— " Mary stopped crying and looked around the tent. “I thought we had a lot more."

"The other three didn't bring out all theirs, either. We all kept some back from Judd, although I thought you wouldn't. That's why I came in to get it. Would you?"

"No. It never entered my mind." She sniffed hard and looked at Connor, her face glowing softly in the light coming through the tent sides. "What made you think of doing it?"

"Judd is the bully of the block. I've run into lots of them."

"You're sneaky."

"Playground rules."

"I see." She smiled at him, eyes shining. "The great airman knows how to play poker."

He grinned back. "The great airman knows lots of games."

Mary nodded, her fingers playing with the cord on his parka hood. "I hope the great airman knows how to survive on water and air."

"I might not have to. Someone’s searching for us."

She sighed. "I hope they realize how dangerous it’ll be to try to rescue us.”

She lay against him, her weight slight. Both of them had been losing weight, he knew, but he hadn't realized how hard things were on Mary.

"It's no use," she cried. "We'll never get away."

He kissed her gently on the cheek, then her lips. She kissed him back, her left hand coming up to entangle itself in his hair in a grip so tight it hurt.

It started as a kiss of comfort, of encouragement, but it didn't stay that way. At least not for him. He was falling in love with Mary, and falling hard.

Alarmed by the strength of Connor's kiss, Mary pulled back. Her heart beat rapid time and she gazed at him uncertainly, feeling a surge of fear. She fought against it, knowing the emotion had risen from her past.

He released her readily, as if she were a fragile mountain flower he had inadvertently brushed against and was afraid to damage it.

Was she so vulnerable? Yes, perhaps she was— much more than she realized.

When he didn’t try to pull her back, but allowed her the freedom to move or stay, her fear gave way to emptiness.

She wanted to kiss him again— yet she hesitated, uncomfortable with any kiss that demanded more than a brief meeting. She needed to stay in complete control of the people around her— especially men. If they pushed into her space, she panicked.

She had built a protective wall around herself for many years. But in avoiding fear and danger, she had also kept away love and tenderness.

Connor sighed and dropped his arms, leaving her destitute. "We'll keep trying," he said, sounding disheartened. "We've got to."

"Of course," she mumbled.

He laughed bitterly. "Lots of things could happen. The helicopter might come back. The whole lot of them might fall off a cliff. "

"More likely their feet will get so bad, they won't be able to move. Just take care it doesn't happen to you."

"I'm being careful."

If Connor fell off a cliff, then she’d simply take the few steps necessary to fall with him. Even with his help, she could barely hold on. Without him...? She shuddered. Without him, it’d be unendurable.

"When Ira threw his knife, I thought for sure he had killed you. It went right by your ear. I died right then."

"Luckily, he chose to miss."

"If anything happens to you...." She gulped in air and stared up at him, her body trembling. "Please, please, please watch what you do— what you say. Don't give them any chances at all."

"I can't promise that. We can't sit back and wait forever. We have to be ready to make a move."

"I don't know if I'd recognize a good chance when it came."

"I will. They're growing careless around me. I almost got Wes' gun when he was trying to find out what happened to you in the deadfall. He pulled it on me...."

"And...?"

"I released the limb I was holding. Knocked him flat. I wasn't thinking then, just reacted."

"My cutting through the woods didn't work very well, did it?"

"I don't know. It separated them. If we could just get them to walk ahead of you, you could send them into an avalanche area."

"That’s not likely. And you saw what happened when we left the trail. The only one who went ker-plunk was me."

"Are you all right? I noticed you were limping."

"I wrenched my leg when my snowshoe caught in the branches."

"Which leg?"

"This one."

He rubbed his hand back and forth on it, and she laughed. "That's not how to do it."

"I'm not very good at things like that," he explained.

He took his hand away and she pulled it back, pushing it onto the sore muscle on her upper thigh. "You need to press, rather than rub."

He removed his hand once more. "No, Mary. I don't think I'd better."

"Why not?"

"Well, I just... Well, because it's you. And your leg.”

"Oh. Sorry."

Mary felt the heat rush to her face, glad the light had grown too dim for him to notice. Her lack of experience caught up with her at unexpected times, making her seem naïve, when in reality she had just not seriously considered what she said or did.

Without warning the tent flap was thrust aside and Judd stuck his head in. He scowled at the two of them, grunted, and left, the snow scrunching softly under his feet.

"Oh," Mary cried, the sudden intrusion invading her privacy. "Why does he do that?"

"He wants to make sure we’re here."

"Then he should called out."

"It's more fun that way— for him. He uses the unexpected check to intimidate us or at least make us uneasy. We'll have to make more of an effort to listen for his approach."

Her shoulders sagged along with her spirits. "If only they’d just give up."

"They’ll shoot us first. Whatever happens must be soon. Judd is running out of patience."

"I feel like giving up and taking him to the cabin. Getting it all over with."

"You can't. And you won't. You're a survivor."

Mary didn't feel like one. Emotionally, she depended on other people to rescue her. "You keep saying that. I'm really not. I’m just faking it."

"You are. You're the kind who’d drag herself down the trail with two broken legs."

She laughed at the image, discounting herself because of the power of her fears. Yet when she imagined pulling herself along, she knew she could. She could handle natural things. She wasn’t afraid of them.

"You're a survivor, too," she said. "You survived all those plane trips. Sorties, missions, whatever you call them."

"I guess that's part of war. Some make it. Some don't."

"You'd make it. You're a good leader."

"Huh! Couldn't prove it this trip."

"But you are. You make me believe I can climb mountains and whip four gun-toting criminals just by saying I can. That's quite a... a talent you've got— making people believe in themselves. A talent that shouldn't be wasted."

"But is the judgment there?" His voice sounded strained, as if he had come to some unwelcome conclusion.

"What...?"

"Judgment. Deciding when to fight and when to talk. This waiting game is new to me."

"That doesn't mean—"

"I could've killed us both by now. I almost did, in the river."

"But we made it. I never would’ve tried it." She gazed at the sunset glow, lighting up the tent sides with glorious color. She didn't have the energy to go watch it.

"I still should’ve given the river more respect. Maybe I should leave the military. Get a civilian job where my lack of judgment wouldn't cost a life."

Her heart leaped at the idea. "What would you do?"

He looked at her and grimaced. "I don't know. I love to fly so much, that to be grounded is..."

"Like being in a cage?"

"Yes. Like someone's clipped my wings. That's the way I feel right now, walking along with my hands tied behind my back.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I couldn't do it. I'd go nuts, not flying."

Her heart sank. He spoke the truth. A warrior would fight as long as his strength lasted. She’d never endure the months he spent at sea.

"Be careful on some of these icy trails. I thought I’d lost you yesterday," she said. His feet had shot out from under him and dropped him flat on his face. He had slid three body lengths down the slope before he turned sideways and caught himself with his pack.

"I thought so, too."

"We should use a safety rope more."

"No. If anything happens, I don't want to be roped to those guys— especially if we see an opportunity to get away. So we take our chances."

Two days later Mary stopped to consider a slide area threatening the trail she was presently following. Their progress had been slow; the men's feet were in terrible condition and each day they had had to alter their route to avoid avalanches.

During that time, enough of the mighty waves of snow had thundered down the slopes that Judd and his men did not question her sudden detours. The unstoppable, uncontrollable forces of nature made overly impressive statements and when Mary would pause to survey the slopes, the men would all cast wary glances at the heavy layers of snow.

A bare slope tended to be extremely dangerous in the winter, so Mary looked this one over carefully. If they crossed the treeless area ahead of them, they would be walking directly into the path of an avalanche.

The best route she could see proved to be straight up the mountainside, through dense timber, to the top of the slide area. There they could travel safely above the avalanche path, then drop back down to the trail on the other side.

The detour would add a good two miles and Mary was happy to take it. It was time to circle slightly and begin to head the other way, passing the chain of frozen lakes on the south side instead of the north. She was leading them in a serpentine pattern, avoiding the same trails whenever she could. They would be heading west again, back toward Seattle.

They were not very far from the cabin at this point, since it lay in the I-90 corridor leading to Snoqualmie Pass. She did not dare get any closer to the pass. With its many winter recreational areas, it would be too easy to run into a group of people out for some fun. Plus, this morning she had heard the explosives used at the pass to bring down avalanches before the skiers took to the slopes.

Her route picked, Mary started up the slope, going above the avalanche trap. She took her time, walking slowly up the steep mountainside, hugging the edge of the trees to avoid the loose snow of the slide area.

The trees reached out like gnarled hands to slow her down, and although the small bumps and ruts of the trail were well covered with snow, huge boulders that were easily climbed in the summer now became giant walls covered with ice, impossible to surmount, forcing many route changes.

She had to work her way around each tree, each boulder that stood in her way. She could avoid them by going out onto the open, treeless area of the slide; but that would be deadly.

She was near the top of the ridge when she stopped for a breather. The cold air made for hard going, and she pulled her scarf higher to cover her nose as she filled her lungs and looked up.

All about her the mountains lay covered with a thick layer of white, while overhead the sky was as blue as the deepest turquoise. An airplane’s contrail penciled a line across, west to east—someone traveling from one point of civilization to another, completely unaware of Connor and Mary's plight.

Dropping her gaze, she glanced around, locating Denny Peak and the old forest fire lookout on top of Granite Mountain. She was right where she figured to be.

A flash of light coming through a gap in the mountains caught her attention— and as she concentrated on the area, she saw another flash, followed by several in a row.

At first she thought someone was signaling to her, then realized it was sunlight reflecting off windshields. The highway! She hadn't realized it could be seen from here.

If the group crossed this ridge, they'd be sure to see the flashes and know they were close to the same highway where they had left the van.

They would react violently, she knew, picturing their bad tempers, which had grown as their feet and bodies grew sorer.

She must go back down.

Doing a fast kick turn, she almost knocked over Wes, who had climbed up behind her in the few seconds it had taken to comprehend what the flashes meant.

She had to keep him from seeing them. She had to get him— all of them— turned around.

Panicking, Mary hurried off the ridge, grabbing Wes' sleeve as she went.

"Wrong way. Come back!"

He didn't move. Had he already seen the flashes from the car windshields?

She ran past Ira and down to Connor's level. To Connor she hastily whispered, "You can see the highway from up there!"

She stood beside him, trembling from shock, praying that Wes would come back down without seeing anything.

She raised her voice to call to Judd, who was climbing up behind Connor. "Save your steps. I took the wrong fork at the lake. We've got to go back."

Her voice came out higher pitched than normal, making her feel she was screeching. Would Judd notice anything? Would he want to go to the top and look for himself?

"The lake?" Judd exclaimed, stopping and staring back over his shoulder.

Mary flicked a glance out of the corner of her eye at Wes, still standing where she had passed him, body slumped, not looking like he wanted to move at all.

Mary pointed toward the jagged mountain ridge northwest of them, needing to say something, hoping she didn't talk too much in her nervousness that she made them suspicious.

"I need to be on the other side of that. The trail splits at the lake and I didn't realize I was wrong until I got up here where I could see."

Judd stared hard at her, his eyes squinting with suspicion. "You sure that's what happened?"

"Of course."

"I thought you knew the route?"

"Everything looks different covered with snow."

He frowned, looking skeptical.

"I used to follow my dad up here during the wintertime. I didn't pay as much attention to the route as I should have... plus the avalanches have made me reroute so often, I—" She was chattering, she knew, but couldn't stop.

"Then cross down into the valley and go up the other side. Why go back to the lake?"

Mary moved a few more steps downward, hoping Wes would leave his spot and join them. He was starting to look around now that he had rested a bit, and panic tightened inside her.

She faced Judd. "We can't short cut this slope... it would avalanche on us. I was trying to go around it, this way... but it puts us off the trail too much. That's how people get lost... leaving the trail."

"I think it'd be hard to get you lost."

"Anyone can get lost."

"Are you?"

Should she say "Yes?" or "No?" She wanted them to follow her off this ridge, so she said, "No— at least, I don't think so. I’m just on the wrong trail. I know where I am now."

She took four more steps downward, bringing her to Judd's level. Connor turned and followed, and... and
finally
Wes moved his feet and he and Ira joined them.

Ramone had been bringing up the rear and now he turned and started back down, leading them off the ridge. It took another hour to retrace their steps to the lake, where they had spent the preceding night.

"Where's the trail?" Judd demanded, his temper surly from what he would see as extra walking.

"There." Mary pointed along the lake where the other trail started off a quarter of a mile further on. "Let's go."

"We'll go when I say we go."

She straightened around, looked at him. "Of course."

"We'll rest for ten minutes, then go."

"Fine. I could use the break."

Ten minutes later she led the way out onto the lake, using the flat, snow-covered surface as the best route to the trail.

"Strange you missed it," he growled, when she finally started up the trail with its trees well-marked with old blazes. There was a large sign posted—now only about three feet above the snow—listing all the alpine lakes and the distances to each one. Signs such as this could make them suspicious, as this sign showed Pratt Lake to be three miles off while the sign at a previous lake they had passed said Pratt was only 2.2 miles away.

She planned an irregular route as she had to make sure she didn't re-cross their tracks, at least not until a heavy snowfall wiped them out.

Her mind swung to the trail ahead. There was not that much land in the Pratt Lake quadrant. Because of the ski areas and the way the highway curved around, she had hemmed herself in on all sides but one.

North. If she had to, she could lead them north for many days before having to swing south again.

But no one said anything as they marched past the signs and along the trail, and Mary gave a small nod of satisfaction to herself. All was going well.

When Mary pointed out a new uphill route, Wes groaned audibly. "I need another rest," he complained, dropping his pack and flopping down to sit on it. "My feet are killing me."

Although they had barely gone a mile that morning, Ramone quickly followed suit, carelessly dropping the rifle beside him. "Mine too. I've got blisters on top of blisters."

With a nod, Judd sat down also. It was another indication that the men's feet had gotten worse. The bandages they put on every morning had to be coming loose and rolling up within their boots, creating problems on their own. Steeling her emotions against their pain, Mary had hidden all the mole skin and flexible bandages.

Connor had not sat down, but propped himself up against a tree, next to Mary. She liked having him there, but hoped he would remember that he had to act crippled too.

"I don't even feel mine anymore," Ira said. He pulled out his knife and a small bear he was whittling from a chunk of wood and cut expertly into the soft pine.

"Well, I sure do," Wes complained. "I'm glad my pack's not heavier."

"How come yours is so light?" Ramone demanded.

"I didn't say that. I said—"

"My pack's heavier 'n yours."

"You hoarding food?" Wes snapped.

"No, you little weasel. 'Side's, I need cigarettes. I ran out yesterday. You got any?"

"A few, but you ain’t getting any. I'll run out tomorrow. How much longer we gotta walk?"

"'Till we get there, dummy."

Mary paid little attention to their constant bickering, rejoicing that Connor avoided the two. He had evidently developed some patience in dealing with them. With the lighter pack, he was regaining his strength, even though he didn’t get enough to eat.

He wasn’t as quick to fight as he had been when they started, giving Ramone fewer opportunities. Without Connor provoking them, all four of the kidnapers had grown more careless.

"Let's go," Judd announced after twenty minutes. "Sitting here's not going to make our feet feel any better. We still have to go over this ridge."

Grumbling, they got to their feet and picked up their packs. Ira shoved his knife back in his sheath and tossed the now-finished little bear around in his hand. He handed it to Mary and walked away. Astonished, she examined its tiny face, then slipped it into her pocket.

She stared in wonder at Ira, who was busy putting on his pack. He didn't speak, just stood, waiting to leave. Wordlessly, she led the way out.

She pushed hard for the few hours left in the day, as if making up for lost time—and as she gained the north face of a slope, saw with satisfaction that she had put Denny Peak between them and the highway.

Her feet felt like leaden weights. Mary lifted first one, then the other.

Tired. She could feel the perspiration building up under her clothes and knew it was time to stop before she dehydrated, or had an accident. She and Connor must stay healthy.

Walk, walk, walk. At times like this she wanted to give up and lead them to the cabin. What could be worse?

Being dead.

She forced herself to remember her neighbor. The image of his lifeless body chased away her doubts— doubts that had only risen due to exhaustion.

"Survivors don't give up," she mumbled to herself, and took control of her emotions once more. “
Face your dragons.
”

She wondered how the men felt. She wanted them so exhausted they wouldn’t be able to turn over tonight, much less worry about what she and Connor were doing.

As long as these murderers followed her blindly, she’d lead them through the mountains continuously, keeping in the open on the chance that the helicopter would return.

She was silently congratulating herself when Ira spoke up, his quiet voice carrying well in the still air. He had a sharp clip to his vowels, a nasal sound that just barely touched his voice. Mary could pick it out from the deeper tones of Judd and Ramone and the higher pitched whine that was Wes.

"Hey, Judd, have you noticed? When we started out, Mount Rainier was over our right shoulder, later it was behind us, and now it's off to our left."