Текст книги "Tempt Me If You Can"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
The wilderness did intrigue him, though. More than that, he was beginning to find a contentment he hadn’t known existed.
Atwood shrugged and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Ben settled his pack on his back, and picked up his rifle and Homer. “While you’re in town, find out when the plane will be in. Push it if you have to. I want it here by Thanksgiving.”
Atwood grinned. “A wedding present?”
“Yup. That way she’ll have to accept it.”
“She’s gonna be one grateful bride. The plane you ordered makes the stealth fighter jet look like a relic. It’s got every electronic toy known to man.”
“Every groom deserves a grateful bride, don’t you think?” Ben said as he slapped Atwood on the shoulder. “I’m counting on it.”
Atwood started the truck and drove off. Ben watched the Suburban slowly make its way down the overgrown road, waiting until it was out of sight before he headed back to the one spot in this vast, beautiful forest that seemed to be lacking a soul.
The fall morning was crystal clear, the sun bathing the land with warmth. Yet when he stepped into the realm of Wayne’s coordinates, it was like stepping into a cold, lifeless circle of evil.
Chapter Eighteen
“B eaker, I’m going tostep on you if you don’t get out of my way,” Emma warned for the fifth time.
For some mysterious reason, the dog had been glued to her side all morning. She had already given the clinging animal numerous cookies trying to calm him, but now she was feeling ill from eating all the chocolate centers.
With a sigh of defeat, she sat down on the couch and patted a place beside her. Beaker immediately jumped up and laid his head on her lap.
“What’s bothering you?” she asked, scratching his ear.
He lifted only his canine brows and whined.
Emma gave him the attention he needed as she stared into the crackling fire in the hearth. Maybe the dog had caught the mood of the lodge’s other inhabitants. It was like there was a pregnant cloud hanging over Medicine Creek Camps. Heck, even the woods had been rumbling.
The phone rang, and Emma got up to answer it. “Hello.”
“Emmie? Is that you?”
Emma went utterly still.
“Are you there, Emmie? Hello?”
“K-Kelly,” she whispered. “Kelly? Is that you?”
“Hello, sister.”
Emma gripped the phone with both hands. “Where are you?”
“In Bangor. I need you to come see me, Emmie. Right now. Please? I have to talk to you.”
“You’re in Bangor?”
“At the mall. I’ll be at the center court waiting for you. Hurry up.”
“Wait. Kelly!”
A dial tone answered her urgent plea.
Emma stared at the phone until it started buzzing loudly. She finally set it down, though it took her three attempts to put it on the charger because her hands were shaking so much. And still she continued to stare, not seeing anything but Kelly’s face in her mind’s eye.
Kelly hadn’t even asked about her son. Emma’s gaze drifted to the picture on the mantel, of her and Kelly and five-year-old Michael on his first day of school. “What sort of mother doesn’t even ask about her son?” she whispered into the stark silence.
Beaker whined and nudged her thigh. Emma looked down at the dog staring up at her with large brown eyes. “Maybe she’s … do you think she could be scared, Beak? Ten years is an awful long time.”
Emma knelt down to hug the dog, and let out a shuddering sigh. “Here I go again, making excuses for her. But just hearing her call me ‘Emmie’ … I—I guess I should pity her more than hate her.” Emma buried her face in Beaker’s neck. “She missed so much not being here to watch Michael grow up.”
Emma considered stopping at the high school and picking up Mikey before heading to Bangor. He deserved to see his mother, and truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was emotionally strong enough to face Kelly alone. “No, that wouldn’t be fair to Mikey,” she muttered into Beaker’s neck, stifling a sob. “He deservesthis reunion to be right here, in his home, where he’ll have some sense of control.”
Emma finally stood up, brushing away the tears streaming down her face, and took a deep breath. So Kelly wanted to talk, did she? Well, by God, she would talk to allof them, Ben included. She intended to drag her sister back here kicking and screaming if she had to. “Come on, Beak. We’re going for a ride.”
She blindly strode to her truck, and Beaker jumped up on the driver’s seat ahead of her. He stood in her spot, whining, not letting her in the truck.
“I know you don’t want me going anywhere, Beak, but I have to go get Kelly.”
The dog whined, not budging an inch. Emma ended up pushing him over and scooting behind the wheel despite his protests. “If you don’t want me leaving you here, you better hush up and sit down. It’s a two-hour ride.” Emma started the truck and backed it out of the yard, spitting gravel as she headed for the main road.
The dog scrambled to remain upright. “It’s okay, Beak.” She pushed him into a lying position. “That’s a good boy. You like riding. Just relax and watch out the window.”
Emma took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and slowed the pickup to a safer speed. She was contemplating various ways to approach Kelly when she rounded a curve and had to slam on the breaks to avoid running into Wayne Poulin.
Great. Just what she needed right now.
Unless Kelly had called him, too, and he’d been on his way out here to tell her?
His truck had obviously broken down. The hood was up and he hadn’t even gotten it off to the side of the road. He was standing by the driver’s door, his hands on his hips and his beady little eyes narrowed against the dust.
Emma shut off her truck and stared at him through the windshield. A growl rattled low in Beaker’s chest.
She wasn’t getting out of the truck. Wayne Poulin had a two-way radio, just like everyone else, and could call for a tow.
He walked up to her door and Emma rolled down the window just enough to speak to him.
“I need a ride into town,” he said without greeting.
He certainly didn’t sound as if Kelly had called him. “I’m in a hurry, Wayne. And I’m headed in the opposite direction. I’ll send someone back—”
He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun, which he aimed at her face. Beaker’s low rumble escalated to a vicious growl as he tried to crawl over Emma’s lap and put himself between her and the danger.
Wayne moved his gun in Beaker’s direction. “Settle him down, Emma, or I’ll shoot him. I’m going to climb in the back, and you’re going to move your truck into the trees to your right. Don’t start it until I’m settled. Understand?”
Holding on to Beaker’s collar and pushing him down in the seat beside her, Emma nodded. Wayne scaled the side of her truck and crouched behind her. Beaker nearly tore her hand off as he strained to face the threat.
“It’s okay, Beak. Take it easy,” she said, watching Wayne in her mirror.
He tapped on the glass with the barrel of his gun. “Start the truck and go slowly,” he said. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll pull the trigger.”
She believed him. She’d never trusted Wayne, and she certainly didn’t doubt the man was mean enough to shoot her or her dog.
The question was, why?
Kidnapping her didn’t make sense, so why was he pulling this stupid stunt?
Emma started the truck and put it in gear, letting it idle its way into the woods.
“That’s far enough. Now shut it off,” Wayne ordered.
She did as she was told and sat there, staring straight ahead, one hand on Beaker to keep him calm. She was afraid that as soon as she opened her door, all hell was going to break loose.
“Now get out.”
Very firmly, Emma commanded Beaker to stay. The dog whined in protest, his hackles still raised, his eyes never leaving Wayne as he moved to her door. Emma opened the door and tried to scoot out and keep Beaker inside.
His gun poised, Wayne pulled her door all the way open.
Beaker lunged.
So did Emma.
The gun went off and she heard a yelp as all three of them fell to the ground. She dove for Wayne just as he was taking aim at her dog again.
“Run!” she screamed, kicking at Beaker as she tried to get the gun.
Wayne pulled the trigger again right next to her ear, deafening her to the point of pain. An outraged snarl erupted from Beaker as he darted for the safety of the bushes. Wayne fired again. There was no yelp, only the cracking of branches as the dog fled.
Emma lay on the ground on her back, holding her left shoulder. She didn’t know which hurt more, her ear or her old wound.
“I’ve got three bullets left, Emma. Give my any more trouble and I’ll use every one of them on you. Now get up,” he said as he hauled her to her feet.
Emma stifled a cry of pain, afraid Beaker would come running back to help her. Wayne kept darting looks at the bushes as he dragged her over to his truck.
“Shut the hood,” he ordered, holding her captive by her hair.
She did as he asked, and he hauled her around to the passenger side of the truck.
“Open it and get in.”
She opened the door, but before she could get in he pushed her down on the seat, spinning her around while letting go of her hair to grab one of her arms.
“Put your hands in front of you.” He darted one more look at the woods, then tucked his gun in his belt. He reached in on the floor of the truck and got a rope and tied her hands together.
“What’s gotten into you, Wayne? Why are you doing this? I didn’t find anythingat those coordinates.”
He finished tightening the knot, then glared at her. “I’m taking you out of the equation. Once everyone realizes you’ve run off like your sister, Sinclair will take his kid and go back to New York. Then I’ll finally be home free.”
Take her out of the … “Are you nuts? Nobody’s going to believe I’ve run off! They know I’d never abandon Mikey.”
He used her bound hands to haul her into a sitting position, shoved her feet inside, and pushed the lock on the door but didn’t shut it yet. “They’ll believe it once I start the rumor that Sinclair paid you a tidy sum to disappear so he could have the boy free and clear. And that if you didn’t take the money, he’d ruin your business and take his son home anyway.”
“You’re crazy. No one would believe something like that.”
He laughed insanely. “They’ve believed all the other rumors I’ve been spreading for the last ten years. They’ll believe it, all right, because everyone knows bad blood always wins out.” He stepped back with a twisted grin. “That dress you wore to the dance certainly showed everyone you’re no better than your sister,” he added, slamming the door shut.
Emma drew in a shuddering breath as she slowly lifted her hands to work her sore shoulder. Wayne took a hesitant step toward where Beaker had disappeared, his gun in his hand, the hammer cocked to fire. He waited, listening, and Emma prayed her dog was smart enough to stay hidden. Getting himself killed wouldn’t help her; it would only empower Wayne even more.
He finally gave up and came back to the truck. Without saying a word, he got in, started the truck, and headed away from the main road, deeper into the forest.
Emma slouched down so she could see the road behind them in her side mirror. She hoped Wayne’s first shot hadn’t been deep enough that Beaker would bleed to death. She didn’t see any sign of her dog, her truck … or anything else to say she’d even been there.
Chapter Nineteen
F or forty minutes Emmarode in frightened, painful silence beside the man she’d known since childhood.
It was as if something in Wayne had snapped. She had never liked him, but now he appeared to have traveled beyond reality into darkness. He was sweating. His face was flushed and he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension.
It hadn’t taken Emma long to realize where they were going. The bumpy, overgrown track was leading to the coordinates she wished she’d never found.
Wayne was staying off the Golden Road, a private gravel highway used by the paper mill to transport logs. There would be plenty of trucks on the Golden this morning, which was probably why Wayne was avoiding it.
So they were taking the long way, which involved a maze of unused tote roads that made the going slow and arduous, and painful to her throbbing shoulder. The entire right side of her body was bruised from banging against the door, since her tied hands made her unable to brace herself against the rougher spots in the road.
She kept peeking in her side mirror for any sign of Beaker. She didn’t know much about dogs, but she didn’t think they could travel nonstop for great distances, especially wounded. Yet Beaker seemed more remarkable than most. Maybe …
“Who called me pretending to be Kelly?” she finally asked into the silence.
If she’d been thinking with her head instead of her heart, she’d have realized it wasn’t Kelly earlier.
“A friend from Greenville.” Wayne looked over, his smile nasty. “Charlene thought she was setting you up for a surprise party.” He reached over and roughly tugged on her hair. “Surprise, Emma.”
She pulled away, banging her side against the door again. “What’s this all about, Wayne? What did you mean, you’re ‘taking me out of the equation’?”
The rough road drew his attention and she didn’t get an answer. She banged her head against the rifle in the gun rack behind her. A few strands of her hair caught on it, and she barely stifled a whimper when they hit another bump and it pulled the snarl out by the roots.
They finally reached the spot in the road where Emma and Mikey had found the tire tracks almost two weeks ago. Wayne suddenly let loose a curse. Emma followed his gaze and saw that the ground around the mud puddles was wet.
Which meant someone else had been there this morning.
Wayne looked past her to the mountain above, his eyes assessing. He opened his door, grabbed the rifle from behind her head, then hauled her out his door by her bound hands, driving her hip into the steering wheel and pulling on her wounded shoulder.
He relentlessly pulled her down the road, scanning the forest as he walked. Suddenly he stopped and hunched down by a puddle, trying to read the tracks. “They’ve left already,” he said, standing and dragging her into the forest.
Taking advantage of the fact that Wayne was paying attention to his surroundings, Emma tripped him when he ducked under a branch, jerked free of his grip, then ran back through the path they’d made.
Emma heard snapping branches behind her as he scrambled to his feet in pursuit. Her bound hands made it nearly impossible to balance herself as she pushed through the snagging bushes and stumbled over roots. Wayne tackled her just as she made it to the road. He landed heavily on top of her, driving her into the ground, and Emma cried out in pain. Wayne grabbed her hair, growling with frustration.
“Why are you doingthis!” she cried.
He got to his feet and pulled her up by the hair again. Emma kicked him, and he smacked her side with the butt of his rifle, making her draw back against the pain.
Still without speaking, he took her deeper into the forest again, shoving her ahead of him, using his rifle to prod her in the back whenever she stumbled.
It seemed forever before he jerked her to a stop. Emma looked around and realized that they were standing at the exact same spot she and Mikey had found. Only now the earth was well trodden, the leaves and pine needles scuffed in places. Wayne also looked around, and realized his secret place had been invaded.
He shoved her hard, and Emma fell back with a scream.
“This is your fault,” he growled. “I had the environmentalists stirred up enough to pass the no-clear-cutting legislation.” He waved the gun barrel at the forest. “This would have remained untouched. Everything would have stayed safe.” He pointed the gun back at her. “Your snooping ruined everything.”
Emma scooted back out of his reach. What he was saying didn’t make sense. Wayne would want the clear-cutting legislation to be defeated, not passed. His livelihood depended on cutting down trees. “You’ve been the one fueling this war all along? Why?”
He hunched down in front of her, sitting on his heels and balancing against his rifle. “This section was marked for clear-cutting next summer, which means there would have been men and large machinery all over these woods. I couldn’t have that.”
“Because it would have ruined your drug-running operation? You could just find another drop point.”
He looked startled, then suddenly barked in laughter. “Drug running! Is that what you think?”
Confused, Emma nodded.
He laughed again. “You’re dumber than your slut of a sister, you know that? I’m not running drugs.”
Emma didn’t like the sound of his laughter. Wayne wasn’t just trying to cover his tracks; he truly was insane.
“Then what’s this all about?”
He jumped to his feet, lifting his hat off, then resettling it into place. He repeated the ritual several times, and began pacing in front of her, a sweating ball of nervous energy, his eyes pinpoints of madness. He pulled the handgun from his belt, still holding his rifle in his other fist.
“Kelly wouldn’t stop probing, either, until she found out my secret.” He stopped and pointed the handgun at her. “When I tried to explain it had been an accident, she still didn’t believe me. She went ballistic and said she was going to tell Ramsey.”
Emma felt the blood drain from her face. “What did you try to explain to her?”
He stopped pacing and stared at her with a surprised expression on his face. “That I killed Charlie.”
Emma stiffened in shock. “Wha … ?” Her mind reeled as images of her father’s body suddenly surfaced; beaten and battered by the force of the water carrying him down the valley below the dam. And more images: of Kelly’s melancholy and the months of pregnancy that followed, of Wayne’s public decree that the environmentalists were responsible, and that Benjamin Sinclair had led the terrorist act.
“ Youblew up the dam?” Emma stared back at him as her anger began to surface. “But why? Why did you kill my father? “
He started pacing again. “I blew the dam to make it look like Charlie got caught in the flood, but he was already dead. He blamed me for getting Kelly pregnant.” Wayne stopped pacing again, the handgun hanging in his hand. “When I told him his slut of a daughter had slept with Sinclair and that it was his kid, Charlie exploded. We fought. It was an accident, I tell you! So I blew up the dam to cover my tracks.”
“And then you blamed Ben.”
His eyes ignited with hatred. “The bastard should be rotting in jail.”
“Kelly didn’t run away, did she, Wayne?” Emma said, as things slowly began to fall into place.
“You’ll find out soon enough, Emma Jean. Assuming there really is an afterlife.” He pulled back the hammer on the revolver and aimed it at her.
Emma picked up a handful of dirt and threw it at him just as a blur of brown fur suddenly raced in from the left, landing on Wayne with an ungodly snarl of outrage. Wayne screamed in surprise. Beaker grabbed his arm with deadly precision, and the two of them tumbled away.
Emma didn’t wait to see who won. She jumped up and ran up the mountain, since he had the truck keys in his pocket. She had also noticed the two-way radio had no microphone; Wayne must have hidden it before he’d ambushed her.
Her only hope lay in the forest.
Emma flinched at the explosion of gunshot behind her but didn’t look back. She couldn’t let Beaker down by getting caught again. She heard no yelp of pain, only Wayne cursing and the breaking of twigs as Beaker ran away in the opposite direction.
Could a dog be that smart? Could he actually be trying to divide Wayne’s attention?
Emma dashed up the mountain. Wayne couldn’t effectively pursue her while staying on guard against Beaker, so her odds of surviving had improved immensely. But the going was difficult, and her bound hands made progress slow. Winded, Emma finally stopped behind a tree to work at the ropes with her teeth.
Wayne was a good woodsman, and the knots were stubborn. She heard a noise coming up the mountain, and leaned over to see Wayne picking his way toward her. He spent just as much time looking behind himself, and Emma smiled. Beaker had escaped and Wayne was worried. She definitely had a chance.
She began moving again, this time in a more deliberate direction. There was a large, deep chasm between here and the beaver pond where they’d parked the plane almost two weeks ago. If she could get across it and then destroy her route, Wayne would have to walk two miles out of his way to get to her.
With every step she took, Emma knew she was putting more distance between herself and Wayne. She was in excellent shape despite her wounded shoulder; a lifetime of hiking had made her legs strong and her mind sharp.
Wayne was also at home in the woods, but even while he was hunting her, he was also being hunted by Beaker. And the man wasdemented; she’d seen it in his eyes when he’d pointed the gun at her and pulled back the hammer. Wayne Poulin had slipped over the edge of reality, which meant his perception would be skewed.
She made steady progress, and soon heard the roaring of water cascading over boulders in its rapid decent down the mountain. With an urgency born of desperation, she walked along the eastern edge of the gorge, looking for a fallen log she could use to get across.
The only one she found was wedged high up on a precipice, which meant she had to get her hands free. Emma found a jagged rock and began rubbing the rope against it, all the while scanning the forest behind her, knowing she’d never hear Wayne approach over the roar of the falls.
Her hands were a bloody mess by the time the ropes finally gave way, and Emma scrambled up the giant boulders to the fallen tree.
It was a long way down the churning icy water, and the log looked skinny and unstable. Emma carefully stepped onto the log.
The sound of gunfire stopped Ben in midstride, and its direction had him running back. Those hadn’t been hunting shots: they’d been too sharp to be from a shotgun and too muffled to come from a high-powered rifle. Which left only a handgun.
And people didn’t usually hunt with handguns unless the target was human.
Ben came to a sliding stop when he finally spotted the prey in the distance, and his heart stopped. Emma was on a log spanning the gorge, trying to walk over the roaring brook.
He broke into a sweat. There was no way she could make it. The log was too unstable, too high, and too rotted. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her to see what she was fleeing from; nor could he holler for her to go back, as she’d never hear him.
Then he heard the crack of another shot, this one sharp, telling him it came from a high-powered rifle. He saw the bullet slam into the log just beneath Emma’s feet.
He also heard Emma’s scream of surprise, and helplessly watched her fall.
He started running parallel to the gorge, moving with the current and watching for Emma to reemerge. Shedding his rifle and gear, Ben swiftly climbed down the boulders. He saw Emma coming toward him, fighting to stay atop the froth as she slammed into rocks and debris. He lay on a boulder on his belly and extended both arms, bracing himself for leverage.
He caught her by her shirtsleeve and pulled, then wrapped his hand around her arm. She nearly hauled him in, the current was so swift. He was afraid he was pulling her shoulder from its socket but refused to let go, even when she slammed up against the rock he was on.
He heard the air rush out of her lungs as she screamed in pain, and he reached down with his other hand and grabbed her belt. Adjusting his position for maximum purchase, he pulled her out of the icy water with one swift motion.
She came up swinging, clipping him on the side of his head with her free hand. The attack was so unexpected, Ben tumbled off the boulder, pulling Emma into his arms to save her from another battering. They landed against a large rock, Emma on top. She reared back to take another swipe at him, but stopped midswing, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Ben!” she yelped, grabbing his jacket. “What are you doing here!” Not letting him answer, she tugged at his jacket and scrambled to get up. “We’ve got to get out of here. Wayne’s trying to kill me.”
She started up out of the gorge, but stopped when she realized he wasn’t following. “Come on—he’s carrying a small arsenal!”
With barely controlled rage, Ben picked up his pack and rifle, grabbed her hand, and started walking along the gorge upstream. Emma ran to catch up.
“Oh, the log. Good thinking. We’ve got to toss it in the water so he can’t follow,” she panted.
The sweat was cooling on his forehead, reminding Ben that the temperature was in the low forties. Emma had to be freezing. When they reached the spot below the log, Ben settled her into a safe crevice. She finally seemed to be coming down from her adrenaline high. Her face was a mask of pain, and her shivering was so bad he could hear her teeth chattering over the noise of the waterfall.
He eased her down between two boulders and set the pack in front of her. Her eyes widened when he repositioned his rifle onto his shoulder by the sling, but that
was all the reaction he got. Her strength was gone, sapped by the cold water. Bruises were already turning purple
on her forehead, and a cut was oozing blood from her hair.
Ben still couldn’t speak, his voice caught in his throat at the sight of her. Reining in his emotions, he leaped over the rocks toward the log bridge, keeping as low as possible. Once on top, he pulled his rifle up and scanned the forest on the other side of the gorge.
Poulin was probably downstream, looking for evidence that Emma hadn’t survived her fall. He didn’t know Ben was here, and that was a mighty big advantage. Wayne wasn’t expecting his prey to shoot back.
Ben began to push the log down into the falls, but suddenly stopped to study it. With a little work he could booby-trap the bridge, and hope Poulin didtry to use it to cross the gorge.
He used his knife to hack a wedge in the bottom of the rotting tree, which he propped up with a small stone. He tested the log for stability, satisfied Poulin would be too intent on finding Emma to notice his handiwork. Then he spent several minutes scanning the forest downstream again.
He caught a glimpse of something moving up the gorge and sighted in on Wayne, his finger on the trigger. But he wasn’t able to get a clear shot. Wayne was jumping from rock to rock, darting in and out of sight. Ben decided not to wait any longer. Wayne was still on the other side of the gorge, and Ben didn’t want to give away his presence.
He climbed down and returned to Emma. She was still sitting where he’d left her, her arms wrapped around herself, no longer shivering. As gently as he could, he pulled her wet sweater off and replaced it with his parka, then grabbed her face between his hands and made her look at him.
“Emma, listen to me. We’ve got to keep going. Can you walk?”
She nodded, cupping his hands with her own. Ben kissed her on the forehead. “Good girl. Any suggestions as to which way?”
“N-north. We’re going to have to go north b-before we can head east.”
Ben looked north, and realized it was all uphill.
“Is there anyplace we can hide, Emma? We’ve got to stop long enough to get you warm.”
“Th-there’s the headwaters of Medicine Creek. And some caves just above it, on the other side of this mountain.”
Which meant they would still have to travel uphill. She didn’t appear able to walk downthe mountain, much less up it.
He wanted to hold her until she was warm. “Come on, honey. We’ve got to move,” he said, gently lifting her up.
He positioned his pack on his back, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and wrapped one arm around her waist for support. They began the arduous journey, and Ben was damn proud of the effort she made to keep up.
It wasn’t long, however, before her stumbling became impossible to deal with. He reached inside his parka and found her skin was dry but cold, unable to produce enough body heat to keep her core temperature up. Whatever energy she could muster was being used to keep her moving.
“How much farther?” he asked, stopping to let her catch her breath.
She looked around, trying to read the forest. “Another half mile, I think,” she said, her breathing labored and her words barely audible.
Ben looked over their back trail before he reached down, placed his shoulder into her stomach, and lifted her over his back in a fireman’s carry. “If we’re going to make it, I’ll have to carry you.”
When he guessed he’d traveled far enough, he set Emma on her feet and held her steady. “Where?” he asked.
“There,” she said, taking a stumbling step. “Maybe a hundred yards up there.”
Great. More uphill. He guided her progress with a hand on her waist as she led him to a blind cliff with fallen rocks at its base.
“There’s an opening to the left of those trees,” she said weakly.
Ben scooped her up in his arms and picked his way through the jumble of weather-worn talus. He heard the trickle of water before he saw it. Steam emanated from a crack in the cliff as water gurgled directly out of the mountain and flowed toward the valley below. The first thing he noticed as he approached was the heat; the second thing was the smell of rotten eggs.
Sulphur? That meant the cave would be uninhabitable.
Ben set Emma in a concealed spot before he took off his pack and leaned his rifle against a rock next to her. Then he carefully tested the temperature of the water.
The spring wasn’t hot, but warm enough to produce steam in this cold weather. He moved to the entrance of the cave and peered inside, sniffing the air, faintly smelling sulphur. He decided to move Emma just inside the mouth of the cave so there would be plenty of fresh air.
He made his way back down to where he’d left her, only to find her staring at his pack. “Ben? Your backpack is making funny noises.”
