Uncontrollable (The Nature of Grace, Book 2) (24 page)

He must decide I’m not a threat, because he doesn’t move any closer. I assume he’s used to people watching him if he’s from the reserve. But it still doesn’t explain why he seemed so intent on attacking Skyler and me. He seems totally different now. Something must have spooked him that day.

But what?

My breath catches in my throat, and a tear comes to my eyes as I stare into his golden ones. It’s one of those moments in life that comes and goes in an instant.

It’s a moment I’ll never forget.

* * *

As quickly as they came, the pack heads off into the woods.

Their den must be close because wolves usually don’t stray far from home when they have pups. I note the location in my book and look back at where we’ve been searching previously. Porter’s tracking collars don’t seem to be very accurate.

I wait until they are out of sight before I leave. I get my bearings and head up the trail another mile to Chasteen Creek. I can hear the sizzle of the river when I get close, and I step out of the trees and look down at the water moving fast from the melting ice and snow. The mossy embankments are covered in a fine dust of flurries. Sheets of ice cover the rocks and icicles hang down from the roots of trees along the embankment.

I stick to the trail that runs along the river and come to a sign piled up with snow. I wipe off the wood post and follow the path north. Less than a mile to go until I reach the falls. I pray Big Mike was right. It’s Seth’s only chance.

Normally in the summer, this trail is not as remote, but in the winter, it’s a tough climb. The trek gets steeper and becomes harder to walk. My hiking boots slip as the path turns into an icy slope. The creek remains to my left as I climb the hill, holding on to roots and branches for support. Luckily, the weather is holding off for me. It’s actually nice — sunny and cold with clear blue skies above. If I want to make it back before dark, I still have a couple hours left before I need to head home.

When I reach the top of the falls, I glance around looking for prints of any kind, human or animal. Problem is, I have no idea where Seth could still be. If he wandered around, which is very likely knowing him, he might be anywhere. I lean over the falls and look down to the bottom.

Halfway down the other side, I spot something. I inch my way around the edge, careful not to slip. The thought of falling thirty feet into shallow, icy water makes me dizzy. As I make my way to the other side, I see legs jutting out from under a large oak. I’m overcome with joy and can’t help but shout as I run down the other side.

“Seth! Seth!”

I sit on my butt and carefully maneuver my way down the embankment and slippery rocks to the ledge he’s sitting on. I can’t get there fast enough and jump the last two feet.

“Thank God I found you! I guess we’re even now.” I inch my way over to him, but he’s still obscured from my full view by a large tree. “Who’s the hero now?”

I come around the tree and there sits Seth. Eyes closed, against a tree.

“Seth?” I nudge him with my toe and cover my mouth.

If he weren’t frozen, I swear, he’d look like he was resting along the river shore, simply enjoying the view.

But he’s dead.

I kneel down in the spot where I’m standing, feeling nauseous, and lower my head.

I’m too late.

Again.

Survival Skill #22

Wolf conflicts with humans are rare, but if you encounter a wolf, stop, stand tall, and do not run
.

I
make my way to the other side of the tree and throw up everything in my stomach.

Then I kneel at the river’s edge and start to cry.

It’s my fault.

I should’ve pushed Agent Sweeney harder last night. I should have never let him stop that search. Though from the looks of it, there’s nothing I could have done to save Seth. He died sometime yesterday or early yesterday evening —  maybe quietly in his sleep.

I throw a rock into the river hard. Why is death all around me? If it’s not animals, it’s people. If it’s not people, it’s a whole town. I glance back at Seth. His eyes are closed as if he’s asleep. He’s not gross or disgusting, just a pale blue statue of who he once was. A shell.

I hope he died in peace. But I know firsthand how painful hypothermia can be, and I’ve heard death from it can be even worse. Unless he was lucky enough to just fall asleep before it hit.

I mark the trail and tree with orange tape and log the coordinates. At least Agent Sweeney can do a body recovery. Then I pick up my bag and start the long hike home.

As I trudge along the path, my legs feel like lead. Heavy. Winter birds chirp, breaking up the thoughts racing through my head. How will I tell Ms. Burrows about Seth? I’ve known his family since elementary school. Seth was always a pain, but I think it was just because he wanted attention. His dad was in the military and rarely ever home.

Not having a dad can mess with you. I know.

My chest fills with sorrow for Seth’s mother. He was an only child and all she had. I remember what my mom went through last summer. At this very moment, Ms. Burrows has no idea what is about to happen, no idea her life is about to shatter into tiny pieces. Right now, she’s probably sitting at home, full of hope, and praying Seth will return soon. Like I did for months. With every phone call, she’s wishing. With every news update, she’s hoping. And once again, I’m the one who’s going to crash someone’s already fragile world. What if she blames me for Seth’s death the way Skyler blames me for Carl’s?

Maybe the
Smoky Review
is right. I’m cursed.

Off to one side, I spot something stuck in the snow. It’s a piece of plastic with a sharp end, like it was part of a syringe. I pick up the foreign piece and study it, wondering if I should take it back. I quickly tuck the trash into my bag just as a foreign noise draws me out of my thoughts.

It’s the shriek of a bird, but something about the sound makes me stop in my tracks. Something familiar. I stop and listen, trying to identify it.

The bird sounds off again. It takes me a millisecond to realize what it is — a Carolina parakeet. I think about Birdee, and then it hits me. It’s the bird’s distress call, the one we played on my computer.

Instinctively, I step behind a tree and scan the woods. Maybe it’s a bear or a wolf. I listen and hear scuffling. Sounds too big to be a wolf and too quiet to be a bear.

The warning call sounds off again, and a little blue and yellow bird zips by me.

I squint and dart my eyes toward every movement. Any branch. Any bush.

Then I see something.

A dark shape that resembles a figure. I can't make out the face, but I can tell he’s camouflaged well. It takes me a second to process who it could be.

Al.

I look around. Where do I go? What do I do? I don’t know if I can outrun him, but I can try. Without hesitating any longer, I bolt off down the path and cut into the thick woods. Heavy footsteps are in pursuit, thumping along the underbrush. My breath comes in sharp rasps as I charge through the woods. The rhythm of my pace takes over in my head as I move. Fast. Arms at my side, I breathe steady —  in, out.

Al cannot catch me in these woods again.

Luckily on this higher path, the snow is broken and sparse along the ground. My hiking boots get good traction as I propel myself up the hill. My pack is strapped on well and doesn’t weigh me down, and I know the way out. It’s just a matter of making it to the snowmobile in time.

I hear deep grunts far back behind me, telling me Al’s struggling to catch up. I don’t even want to turn around. I just need to concentrate on getting out of here alive. I was dumb to come back. Naïve in thinking he was gone. His face fills my head. His sneer. His dark eyes. His knife at my throat. The way he attacked Mo, and the way he killed Carl and Dad.

In cold-blood, without blinking an eye.

I can’t let him corner me again. I won’t. Because this time he’ll be sure I don’t make it out alive.

As I run, I crash through anything in my way. Limbs, bushes, logs. Nothing stops me or slows me down. I keep my eyes forward on the path. I don’t have long to go.

My brain races in panic. Is he gaining on me? Is he right behind me?

I veer off the main trail and sprint straight up the hill. The snowmobile is only about a mile away. Thank goodness it took me longer to get in then it does to hike out.

My legs dig into the mountainside as I push my way uphill. My calves burn and my chest grabs at the air, struggling to take in a proper breath. Tears sting my eyes as everything pumps through me. The next ten minutes are the longest of my life. Every minute I keep waiting for a hand to reach out and grab me.

My lungs are screaming and my vision is dotted. My body is not strong enough to keep pushing, but I have no choice if I want to live.

I give it everything I have until I finally make it to the top of the ridge. Without so much as even pausing to catch a breath, I push through the thick tree line. Snow dumps on my head and into my eyes, but I don’t miss a beat.

When I finally reach my snowmobile, I fumble for the key in my pocket. It slips through my fingers and plops into the snow. I reach down and grab it and shove it into the hole. When I turn the key, I pull on the start cord like a lawn mower, but nothing happens.

“Come on!” I shriek.

Behind me, I hear crashing through the woods. Al is still in pursuit. Keeping my eyes forward, I turn the key again.
Come on
!
Please
! The worst-case scenario plays out in my head. Al’s going to come charging out of the woods and grab me off my snowmobile. He’s going to throw me to the ground, and I’ll never see my mother again.

Then it dawns on me: I forgot to pop up the kill switch. I jerk the red button and turn the key. This time, I double-check the cord is attached, and I flip the choke button to help. I pull on the cord a couple times and finally the engine sputters to life. I jump on and speed out of the woods with branches slapping me in the face, scratching my cheeks. Snow dumps on my head and shoulders, but I don’t even bother to wipe it away. My only thought is,
Get away now
!

I don’t breathe or look back until I hit the main path home. Somewhere along the way, I remember I have a gun and a knife, but a hand-to-hand combat with a man twice my size was probably a good thing to avoid.

I stop about a half mile from my house, where I finally have the nerve to glance back. The trees stare back but no one is following me. I exhale. I did it. I’m safe and I found Seth.

Al has not won.

I race the mobile up the rest of the hill, park it on the side of the house, and run in, slamming the door behind me.

Birdee is waiting with her hands on her hips. “Where the hell did you go?”

I try to answer, but my body is shutting down. I bend over and put my hands on my knees.

She comes over. “Are you okay?”

I nod and take in a few breaths. “Yes. I just went for a ride.”

She narrows her eyes. “For a ride, huh? Maybe I should be more specific. Who did you go with and where?”

“No one.” I look into her eyes and see behind her anger is fear. I force out the words. “I… went… alone.”

Petey squawks and then answers first. “Stupid girl.”

I yell back at him. “Shut up, Petey.”

It’s only after I holler that I realize I’m arguing with a parrot, who’s now bobbing his head and saying, “Petey dance,” as he whistles the "Macarena".

“Alone?” Birdee repeats. She takes her straw hat off and tosses it onto the table. “So Wyn was right.”

“Wyn?”

“He called and said he thought you were up to something. He was worried you would go off alone and try to find Seth. Tell me you didn’t do that.”

I grab a glass and fill it at the sink, cursing Wyn under my breath for worrying Birdee. As I guzzle it down, I stare out the kitchen window at the swaying trees, half-expecting Al to come charging through the woods. I wonder if he knows where I live. With the Internet, I’m sure he can find me.

Birdee speaks to me again. “Grace? Tell me you weren’t that dumb to go looking for Seth.”

“They were looking in the wrong spot. I hiked up to where Big Mike said he was. Just to be sure.” I spin around with tears in my eyes. “I found him.”

Birdee’s face perks up briefly. “Oh my gosh.”

She reaches out to hug me, but I pull away and shake my head.

“No, Birdee. I was too late.”

She cups her mouth with both hands for a second and then gasps out two words. “I’m sorry.”

She wraps her arms around me and pulls me close, and we both cry in the kitchen together for a few minutes. I pull back and wipe my face with a stinky dishtowel.

“I need to call Agent Sweeney with the coordinates before the weather turns worse so they can go get… him.”

She nods as her eyes start to water again. “Poor Sally. She’s going to be devastated. I don’t know how she’ll get through this with Chet still stationed overseas.”

I try not to think of Sally Burrows, or I’m afraid I’ll crumble. I grab the phone to dial Sweeney, but my hand is shaking. Instead, I just stare out the window as if time is standing still for just a second.