The River (7 page)

"But I need these things!" Francesca sputtered.

He ignored her and passed them each a small case. "This will keep your cameras waterproof. Ladies? Here's some info on how to dispose of your…uh…feminine products."

Del scanned the paper he passed her, scrunching her face distastefully. If her period put in an appearance while they were on the trip, she would have to burn the tampons afterward to deter bears and other wild animals. Or pack them out in a Ziploc stored in her river bag.

Neither method of disposal seemed dignified.

Hawk supervised and rechecked all the bags until they were piled in the corner beside the door. The man didn't miss a thing. Not even Francesca's sad attempt to toss in a bottle of perfume.

"You really wanna be covered in mosquitoes and flies?"

Without waiting for her to answer, Hawk tossed the perfume bottle onto the table.

"Okay, one last thing," he said. "Medications. Is anyone on anything, allergic to anything?"

Timidly, Del raised her hand.

Crap!
The one question she had been dreading.

"I need you to fill out this waiver, Miss Hawthorne. Make sure you list what you're taking."

Quickly filling out the form, she handed it back to him.

Hawk read it silently, then gave her a wary look.

"You're all right to do this?"

She lifted her chin. "Yes."

"Daddy, you in there?"

The door opened and a girl of about fifteen stepped inside the building. She gave her father a slip of paper, then disappeared.

Hawk scanned the note quickly.

"Excuse me for a moment."

"I hope nothing's wrong," Del murmured.

TJ feigned a wounded look. "What could possibly go wrong? I planned everything."

Hawk slammed down the phone. "Shit!"

"What's the story?" his partner asked, rubbing a wrinkled hand over his bald head. "Got us a loner?

"Yeah, Ingram's group isn't gonna make it. You two should come with us, McGee. It'll be a large group."

"Actually, Hawk, I was gonna call in sick today. My stomach's off. Food poisoning maybe."

Henry McGee's face
was
a bit pale.

Hawk sighed. "Go on home then. I can handle this group. Two experienced, five newbies, plus me."

McGee paused by the door. "Any of them been here before?"

"I don't think so."

Alone, Hawk flipped through the files on his desk. He pulled Gary Ingram's folder from the bottom and opened it. The man was a desk-jockey. He had probably never even set foot near a river, much less in a canoe.

"A real river virgin," Hawk muttered.

There were a couple of virgins in that group. Yeah, something was definitely going on with that bunch, something more than a fun vacation. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

He had two choices. And neither felt good. He could send Ingram packing and the company would lose the money. Or he could convince the other group to let the man join them. But he had a feeling that adding another stranger to their group was the last thing they wanted.

Someone knocked on the door.

Hawk sighed when he saw who it was. "Ah, Mr. Ingram. I was just coming to see you. I'm afraid we've got a slight problem. Your friends missed their flight."

Ingram's eyes widened in shock. "Well, w-when are they getting here?"

"They're not. Apparently two of them have the flu."

"But I'm here already!"

"There's another option. You could come with my group."

"Think they'll mind?"

Hawk shrugged. "It's my call. They signed the contract and it states we can add to their group. I'll talk to them."

Outside, they headed for the six people waiting at the hilltop.

"Miss Hawthorne, we've got a slight dilemma. Mr. Ingram's friends aren't gonna make it. He'll have to come with us."

Hawk saw a flicker of nervousness in the woman's expression, and her mouth opened as if she were about to say something. Then she snapped it shut.

"Ok," he said, relieved. "Who's going in the plane with me?"

Delila Hawthorne, the black man, the doctor and the redhead raised their hands. That left the kid, the Japanese girl and Ingram in the second plane with the bulk of the gear.

He led Ingram back to the storage building to pack.

"You sure you wanna do this?"

The man shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "My friends wanted me to have an adventure."

Hawk sighed.

He had been a Nahanni River guide for more than twenty years, and if there was one thing he knew for sure, people were always eager for adventure.

Until they got it.

Escorting everyone to the floatplanes, a strange foreboding settled in his chest. Adventure…or misadventure? Whatever it was, something was waiting for them.

He felt it in the wind.

Del gazed uneasily through the small window, swearing as the plane lurched over an air pocket. When it unexpectedly dropped, her stomach was still suspended a few feet above her head.

TJ moaned beside her. "When we get back, Del, I'm not stepping foot on another plane."

"If you all look out your window you'll see Rabbitkettle Lake," Hawk said from the co-pilot's seat. "This is all part of the Nahanni National Park Reserve. It's protected territory, listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO."

Del shielded her eyes against the window.

Two beige mounds came into view. They looked completely out of place, as if God had dropped two giant pancakes in the middle of the forest.

"What are those rock formations?" she asked.

"Tufa mounds," Hawk replied. "Hot sulfurous water escapes to the surface through cracks in the ground and leaves behind terraces of hardened calcium. You'll all get a chance to see them up close."

As the plane dipped and skidded along the lake's surface, she gnawed her lip and glanced at TJ who was engrossed in his
Shit
book. His face was deathly pale―for a black man.

She hid a smile.

Maybe he's waiting for Kathleen Meyer, the book's author, to write the sequel―How to Puke in the Bushes.

As they climbed from the floatplane, she discovered that her ex-boyfriend didn't need a book for that. TJ was a natural.

Once they had unloaded the planes, Del slid on a pair of sunglasses and gazed across the water. The mirror-like surface was placid, surreal. Trumpeter swans and other water birds dabbled along the water's edge, occasionally calling out to one another.

She gulped in a lungful of air.

I'm one step closer to you, Dad.

Tomorrow their adventure would begin.

Everyone had assumed that Schroeder had told her exactly where her father was, that it was just a matter of going in and bringing him back. What would they say when she told them that all she had was an old stained map to lead them to her father―a map that was written in code?

After five tents were pitched on a flat grassy area near the banks of the lake, Del rested at the picnic table, watching Hawk trek off into the bushes for some firewood. Within minutes, he returned with a stack of chopped wood and kindling.

"That was fast."

Hawk smiled wryly. "There's a woodshed back there. What? Did you really think I'd be chopping wood all night? There's an outhouse down that path too."

She took a moment to examine Hawk as he stacked the wood against a tree. A small gold loop hung from his left ear and below it, on the side of his neck, a tattoo peeked from under the collar of his jacket. His black hair was tied back into a shiny ponytail and he favored the tidy moustache and chin goatee.

Like Jake.

She shook off a sudden chill.

Hawk's eyes narrowed. "I'll get the fire going. You should put on a warmer jacket, Del. It gets cold here at night. By the way, I thought that you'd prefer a tent to yourself. Or do you want to bunk with the girls?"

"I think I'll stick with my own tent, thanks."

She glanced at her watch.

It was late, but the sun was still beaming high in the sky.

In the distance, a solitary loon crooned for its mate, and Del felt miniscule, unimportant in all the grandeur before her. Peering up at the northern sky, she realized just how small she was.

After a late supper of chili and cheddar dill bread, Del wanted to do nothing more than climb into her sleeping bag and drift off into dreamland. But Hawk had other plans.

"It's important that everyone keeps the campground free of food, litter and anything scented," he said. "All food, including candy and gum, must be stored in the food cache."

He showed them how to work the pulley that hoisted their food bin up into the highest branches of the trees.

"You might all be wondering why it's still daylight. This area is called
The Land of the Midnight Sun
. On June 21
we had twenty-four hours of daylight, but now that it's early July, it'll start to get dark after midnight. Keep that in mind when you're wandering around the woods. Predators come out to hunt at night, regardless of how bright the sun is. Oh, and in case you think you're sleeping in, sunrise tomorrow will be early, sometime after four. We'll be on the river by seven."

As everyone headed for the tents, Hawk pulled Del aside.

"I don't know much about your, uh…condition. Other than what you've listed on your form."

She waved him away. "I'll be fine. I'm in remission. As long as I take my medication and control any minor exacerbations, I'll have no health problems on this trip."

"Would you tell me if you had any?"

"Of course I would," she lied.

"If you have any complications you let me know immediately. I can use my satellite phone, call for a helicopter."

"I won't be needing a helicopter."

Del stared after him as he walked away.

Hawk might prove to be a problem, a big problem. He might put an end to the expedition if he felt anyone was at risk. She'd have to find a way to convince him to help her…when the time was right.

She turned quickly.

And slammed into Jake.

Without saying a word, he grabbed her arm and steered her toward the rock-strewn path that ran alongside the lake.

"Jake! What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting to the truth."

He stopped abruptly, gripped her shoulders. "What condition?"

She shook her head stubbornly.

His lips curled into an angry scowl. "Tell me!"

"I have MS."

"Multiple Sclerosis?"

"I'm in remission. It's been a year since the last exacerbation."

"What in God's name are you doing?" he thundered. "You're out in the middle of nowhere. There's no hospital, no doctor and no supplies. What were you thinking?"

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. "You're a doctor."

"Damn it, Del! I'm a scientist with a PhD. I don't treat people. I treat genes and microcomputers."

"What about Arnold Schroeder? You treated him."

Jake's eyes gleamed. "The only reason I went anywhere near him was because of the research I've been doing the past few years. And I didn't treat him. It was too late for that. Listen, I know how much you want to find your father but have you ever thought that maybe―just maybe―Schroeder was hallucinating? Maybe your father really is dead."

"He's alive!"

She glared at him defiantly.

"I'm willing to help you," he said stiffly. "On one condition."

"And what's that?"

"I get to stick to you like static. Everywhere you go, I go. And if you get sick, you have to tell me and we go home."

She backed away, crossing her arms in front. "Go home? Not on your life, Kerrigan. Not until I find my dad."

The humid night air made her tremble. At least she hoped it was the air and not Jake's anger.

"But it could mean your life, Del! And if there's one thing I remember about your father, he'd never want you to put yourself in danger to save him."

Glaring at her, Jake muttered something beneath his breath and stomped off in the direction of camp, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Her eyes grazed across the sparkling lake, oblivious to the mosquitoes that feasted on her neck. The only hint of night was the looming shadows that formed between the trees and bushes.

My life is full of shadows. And I'm tired of carrying them.

That day, twenty years ago, when a specialist had called her in after a physical by her regular doctor, her world had crumbled with four words.

You have Multiple Sclerosis.

He proceeded to tell her in a dispassionate voice that she could count on losing her boyfriend, her career and her life. MS would take away her ability to walk, strip her of her eyesight, make her a liability to others. He told her she would have to get used to the idea of spending the rest of her life in a wheelchair, of having to be dependent on others for everything. The callous specialist had given her a death sentence…with no last meal.

Del had immediately phoned her parents from the hospital, but it was her father who raced through rush hour traffic to pick her up. Sitting in the waiting room, suffering from shock, she burst into tears the moment he appeared, his face pale as a ghost. It was her father's arms that comforted her. And it was her father who clung to her and promised her that everything would be all right.

He had always been her Rock of Gibraltar.

Now it was her turn.

Jake was right about one thing.

Her father wouldn't want her to risk her life for him.

"But it's my life to risk," she whispered to the shadows.

The following morning, Del awoke to the clanging of pots and the pungent aroma of campfire coffee, which for some reason usually tasted much better than anything she made at home. She emerged from her tent, fully clothed and rested.

The sun was shining brightly, and although there was still a morning chill in the air, she suspected it would get much warmer by afternoon, especially out on the water.

Jake, Gary and Hawk were busy talking while Peter and TJ tended to the bacon and coffee. Miki sat at the picnic table, alone.