The Charity (73 page)

They continued on like this for well over two hours. It was late afternoon and Jessica knew they would be hitting the final trail marker any minute. Her eyes focused ahead.

Gapman was the first to see it. First, he cocked an ear at it. Then he turned and headed straight for it. Jessica was bewildered by his behavior until she saw what it was he was going for.

Snow lightly dusted the surface of the clothes. Splayed legs and arms clad in the faded green pants and blue shirt could be seen easily through the storm. Hope tempered all other thoughts.

Her radio snapped to life.

“Ridge Team? Ridge Team. Come in.”

Jessica pulled the reins up against Gapman’s mouth and brought the horse to a stop when she heard Tracy’s voice hail her. She fumbled with the radio and jumped off Gapman at the same time.

“Wyeth of Ridge Team here. Go ahead.” She did not take her eyes off the faded green and blue of the clothes of the small body. It was half buried in a drift.

“The search has been suspended. Continue your descent. All teams are to report to base.”

The call to suspend search efforts did not come as a surprise. She had been expecting it long before this.

“Acknowledged. Base, please stand by.”

Despite the cold shaft of fear that ran through her, she waded to the body and knelt down beside it. She took off her thick mitten and placed her hand on the back of the shirt.

“What?” She shook her head and pushed her hand down more firmly. The back of the shirt gave way under the pressure. It was filled with snow.

Gapman began to back away and gave a series of short nervous nickers. Jessica held the radio to her mouth and turned to fight her way through hip deep snow back to the animal. She depressed the button.

“I’m at the fourth marker for Pine Pass. Search is a hoax. I—”

The thick jaws of the ancient steel trap snapped shut around her leg. She fell to the ground.

“Ridge Team? Wyeth? Repeat transmission.”

The radio had fallen deep into the snow. Muffled sounds of static joined the rush of the wind through the trees. “Ridge Team? Come in please.” Tracy’s voice sharpened with concern. She went into standard protocol.

“This is Base Twelve requesting radio silence for all parties.” She repeated her hail. “Wyeth? Jessica? Come in please.”

The padded sides of her boots did not prevent the trap from biting into her skin and snapping her bone. The pain was intense. Jessica heard the repeated hails on the radio and tried to reach it. It had fallen out of her hands with the force of the shock and was now just beyond her grasp. She tried to pull and dig herself over to it, but could not. The trap was somehow tethered to the ground. Most trappers would chain a trap to a tree or spike to prevent a wounded animal from running away into the woods once it was snared. Now she knew how effective that precaution was.

Fighting the panic rising inside her, Jessica sat up and worked to pry open the clenched and rusted jaws. She brought her body down close to her leg and positioned her untethered leg slightly behind her in order to grip the two ends of the trap. The grip caused searing pain and any movement to free herself worked to shut the jaws more tightly bit by bit. A rock formed in her stomach as she slowly acknowledged the reality of her injury.

After many attempts at freeing herself, Jessica sat very still and listened. The only sounds that drifted to her ears were those of the forest and of the terrified horse snorting in confusion. Gapman stood on top of a rise, legs straight, head up and looked at Jessica through white ringed eyes, his flared nostrils two points of red.

“Easy Gapman. Easy fella... c’mon guy... c’mere... you can do it fella... all right.” The soothing melody of words were whipped away from Jessica’s mouth by the wind and scattered through the trees. The song was joined by blasts radio static and voices trying to hail her. Jessica concentrated on cloaking her voice with calm, knowing that any edge of fear that came through would further frighten the panicked animal. “Come on. Eeeasy fellaaa.”

What felt like an eternity went by and the soothing melody of her voice finally began to charm the horse. Gapman lowered his head, pricked his ears forward and took a hesitant step toward his fallen rider.

“That’s a good guy. Easy. C’mon... c’mon.” Each step by the horse was met with more encouragement and praise. Cold and shock began to settle in around Jessica. Slowly, she was able to reach her hand up and stroke Gapman’s face. She brought his huge head down to her own and placed her cheek on his soft muzzle. The horse breathed his sigh of relief at being comforted.

“Okay, guy, we have work to do.” She reached up and took the bridle off of Gapman’s head. Numb fingers fumbled with the small buckles and leather straps and in a few minutes, the bridle was dismantled completely. She dug around her leg and the trap as far as she could and looped one end of the leather reins through the links of the chain. Using the other lengths of leather from the bridle, she secured the pull to the stirrup of the saddle.

Coaxing the head of the horse down to her, she took a long time to stroke the huge face and to talk to him. “This is it, fella. It’s up to you. Just pull as hard as you can. Okay?” She took a deep breath.

“Heyah! HEYAH! Go! GO!” She waived her arms above her head in front Gapman’s face. The horse obeyed and began to back up the snowy slope, using the reins to pull against the imbedded chain. Hooves slipping on ice, the horse nearly fell again and again as it thrashed against the vise.

“Go! HEYAH!!” Jessica made one final surge and Gapman whipped his head wildly around, trying to free himself from his tether to the trap. The leather of the bridle could not withstand the stress and snapped suddenly, sending the screaming horse careening back against the hillside. Finding himself free, Gapman scrambled back up to the top of the rise, shaking.

Jessica looked down at the trap and felt along the ground. Nothing about it had changed except for the squeeze it placed on her leg. The pain made the forest close in around her.

The radio was silent and snow fell downward relentlessly. The pile of clothes was now nearly covered completely by a thick blanket of tiny flakes.

Nothing moved along the mountainside except the snow, pushed by currents of wind.

Yards away, crouched in a recess formed by two slabs of rock and cloaked with snow, the hunter smiled as he watched his prey put her head down and cry.

The illuminated display on the watch read one A.M. Its faint light turned the snow, which clung to long strands of hair, an eerie green. Jessica put her hand back down and pulled the sleeping bag around her. She was lucky. After another hour of coaxing, Gapman relaxed enough to walk back down to her. It took some doing, but she was able to reach some supplies and burrow into a cubby of snow, using the sleeping bag as a cover.

She could not sleep. Even with the snow shelter she dug for herself and the insulated sleeping bag, cold and shock were beginning to work their way into her muscles. Any attempt to generate warmth through movement was met with stabs of pain. Having only one package of dried food left, she ate less than half of it. Her stomach growled its protest. Small amounts of snow melted in the palm of her hand. Only when the last of the slush was gone did she allow herself to put it in her mouth. Then she swirled it around, moistening her dry mouth and further warming the liquid. She swallowed each mouthful slowly, savoring it.

There was nothing more for her to do but wait and do what she could to ward off hypothermia. The time crawled by and her mind made use of the void by connecting the facts of what happened to her in numerous ways. Fear kept taunting her with realities she refused to accept, but knew were true.

The woods played on her fear, giving her groans and snaps to monitor to in wide-eyed dread. Her worst enemy now was herself. She tried to force herself to relax, but could not.

The outline of the trees could barely be seen against the storm-filled night. The snow periodically slowed to a shimmering curtain, and then would increase again as if refreshed by a moment’s rest. Rushing wind pushed the snow around, constantly rearranging the contours of the ground.

A weak impostor of sleep finally pulled down on her. She did not sense the approach of the man.

Her eyes sprang open and were met with the vision of a heavy boot placed close to her face.

The boot pushed at her chest. “Sit up.”

Arms reached down and threw the sleeping bag to the side. The cold that seeped into her accelerated with a rattling chill. Jessica looked up into a face with black holes as eyes and a mouth tortured to one side in a leering grin. There was no doubt who he was.

He looked around and took an exaggerated inhale. He was excited. This is what he had been working so hard for. “Let’s go.”

Jessica looked at the trap and remained silent.

He stooped over and began to work on opening the metal jaws. She looked down at the back of his head and remembered what he did to Gus. She tasted the hate.

With as little motion as possible, she worked off her thick mittens. In one motion, she brought her hands around his face and dug her fingers into the soft flesh around his eyes. In less than a second later, she was on her back with his arm across her throat and a knife to her chest. He yanked her trapped leg for emphasis. Her eyes rolled back into her head with pain.

The black eyes gave a flicker of merriment and then dimmed. He took the discarded mittens and threw them into the woods. Next, he took off the thick ranger’s parka she wore and tossed it aside. She tried another move to protect herself. The knife quickly found a spot on her throat and hovered there.

“Don’t.” The single word conveyed all the menace necessary to secure Jessica’s obedience.

She stood up and gingerly tested her leg. It was impossible to put weight on it.

He pushed her up the hillside.

Gapman looked at Jessica and gave a nervous nicker, keeping a watchful eye on the man. The big horse wanted to come forward, but instinct told him to keep away. Jessica looked at the horse and saw that a makeshift bridle of rope had been hastily tied around his face and more gear had been added to the saddlebags—another blanket, a coil of rope, a pack, and an odd green roll of something.

The man bent down and searched the pockets of her gear, producing a small rectangular piece of metal. He looked down at it for a long time then threw it into the woods with his entire strength. The wind helped to carry the transmitter deep over the chasm.

He mounted the horse with little effort and yanked Gapman’s head around. Gapman surged forward, nose in the air, protesting the abuse the rough rope caused on his face. The horse was brought up behind Jessica and used to drive her forward.

There was nothing to do but try and walk.

Michael rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and looked at the clock on the base station wall. It was close to ten o’clock in the morning. The third wave of teams was due to arrive.

The weather had worsened through the night and the rescue teams were told to go home and get some rest. The forecast was hopeful for a break in the storm by late afternoon. Devlin wanted to have everyone present and ready to go if it broke sooner.

The Falls Team escorted Hoyt down the mountain yesterday. Michael had a brief conversation with him before he was taken to a doctor. The man was shaken, but in good condition.

“You were right about Jess, Sheriff, she can handle herself on a mountain.”

“Can she?”

“Yep. She can read the terrain as well as anybody.” Hoyt saw the concern etched on Michael’s face. He continued, “Don’t be hard on yerself for pushin’ us to separate. I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that she finds that boy an’ brings ‘im home.”

The recollection of that dialogue made his muscles tense. Michael had come under intense criticism from team members when they heard that he encouraged them to separate, especially a team with an injured member. Devlin, normally an easygoing man, listened to the criticism quietly. He gave Michael some support on the decision initially, but when Jessica failed to respond to hails, the support evaporated.

The clock ticked up to the hour. Devlin walked through the door and looked around. “Teams’ll be here soon. Roads are pretty rough.”

The sheriff’s expression did not change.

Devlin continued. “I had to dress you down like I did in front of everyone yesterday. The griping I got from the teams and those reporters didn’t leave me a choice. This thing has been a mess from the beginning and I thought it best that I retake command.”

Michael walked over to the window and leaned against its sill.

Devlin mistook the sheriff’s silence as anger. “Michael, we
couldn’t
send out another team yesterday after Jessica. I sent a team up to the cabin at first light this morning on snowmobiles. Her last transmittal was pretty garbled so we figure the batteries were dying in the transmitter, too. Hunches are she made it there after the radio died. We’ll know soon enough.” The ranger took a gulp of steaming coffee.

“Yeah.” He looked at the deepening snow. He pushed himself away from the window and switched on the shortwave radio. The nasally voice of the meteorologist filled the room and droned on about the weather system.

Devlin got up from his perch by the wood stove and switched off the shortwave. He turned to the microphone. The two men stared at one another. “I have those reports memorized already and nothing’s changing. It’s warming up some. Snow’s getting heavier, but no break until this afternoon, if we’re lucky.” He flipped on the mike.

“Base to Camp. Base to Camp. Status check.”

The radio sputtered back to life. “Camp Team. Just arrived. No sign of Ridge Team. Repeat. No sign of Ridge Team.”

“Do you have a reading on the transmitter beacon?”

“Negative.”

“Can you make an area sweep?”

“Negative.”

“Acknowledged. Base out.”

The ranger rubbed his brow with his fingertips. “They can’t go forward and make a search.” He looked at the clock. “It took them nearly four hours to get there as it was and most of that was on pretty good trails. I told them to sit tight for a while and make it back by nightfall.” His sharp eyes settled on the sheriff. “Any word on that APB you sent out on the mother?”