Текст книги "Lost Canyon"

Автор книги: Nina Revoyr

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

But maybe not. The satellite phones seemed spotty out here, and of course there was no cell reception. A.J. was probably alone. Or joined only by his brother coming in from the west. Tracy and the others would be safe going east. This is what he had to tell himself.

He walked along the valley floor, the land rising on either side. Behind him, the big peaks loomed but the range was now shrouded in darkness. If the others were moving, they were totally hidden, and this, he decided, was why the shooter stayed still. Looking east, everything was dark and obscured. West, any movement would be visible.

He reached the edge of the woods and skirted around to the left until he came to a granite boulder with a sprig of plants beside it. This was the point where they had entered the woods yesterday morning, and it was a good place to enter again. He remembered roughly the path they’d taken under the cover of trees, how long it was before they’d reached the house-sized boulders. But when he stepped in from the open sky and into the shelter of the woods, he realized that this would be different. Away from even the small light of the moon and the stars, this world was almost totally dark. He waited for his eyes to adjust but in the black of night, all of the trees looked the same. A minute in, he spun around and wasn’t sure which direction he’d come from. Finally he righted himself and held out one arm, reaching to touch trees before he walked into them. Each step he took was painfully slow; he lowered his feet gently so as not to snap a twig.

He walked this way for twenty minutes and covered very little ground. He was hungry and thirsty, but afraid to open his bag of nuts; any sound was amplified in the dark. Now he stopped and reconsidered his strategy. How close did he want to get to this guy? How close could he get, really? He couldn’t shoot him in the dark unless he was right on top of him, and there was no way he could get that close without being detected. He needed to be within range, but at a safe distance. And the only way he could do that would be with light.

And A.J. could be anywhere, anywhere in these woods, or if he’d left already, anywhere in the canyon. Todd might have walked right past him already and not even known it.

But he didn’t think so. He thought he knew where he was. A.J. had already shown his patterns. He’d stayed in the camps they’d made, at the trailhead and at the lake; he’d liked stalking them that way, sleeping where they’d slept, drawing energy from their presence. He’d be in the clearing where they’d fallen asleep yesterday morning. Protected by the house-sized rocks.

Once Todd thought this, he knew it was true. He would find A.J. where they had slept themselves, enjoying being where they’d been, waiting until first light when he could see well enough to follow. A.J. hadn’t needed to finish them off right away; he liked knowing they were waiting, afraid. He was like the neighbor’s cat, who sometimes, since the passing of Roger, came into their yard to hunt. Tossing a defenseless mouse up in the air and batting it around, letting it scamper away for a couple of feet before catching it and sinking his teeth in. Yes, he would be in the clearing, waiting for light. As soon as Todd knew this, he could feel him there, breathing.

Todd made his way slowly to the left of where they’d been that morning. He would circle around and approach the clearing from the opposite side, which would give him a clear view between the rocks. It was painstakingly slow movement, step by agonizing step, as he tried not to make a sound when he walked. Once the butt of the rifle bounced against a tree, and Todd cursed under his breath. It was dark—consuming, lonely dark—and by the time he saw the massive shape of the boulders, an hour had passed since he had entered the woods.

He kept a distance of about fifty feet from the boulders and circled around to the left. He got to an area on the opposite side and stayed there, not approaching the boulders or the gap between. He’d wait here out of sight until the sky began to lighten. He shielded his watch so that no light would be visible and then pressed a button. The illuminated face said 2:37.

He sat down and leaned back against a tree. Now that he’d stopped moving, he felt cold; he burrowed into his jacket. Images passed before them—Gwen lying down on the riverbank their first day out, the view back toward the lake when they’d reached their first pass. A.J. tied up at the pot garden, and José lying dead on the ledge. Then other things, home things: sitting at the kitchen table with the Sunday paper, Kelly sunning in the garden, Joey hitting a baseball, Brooke playing with her dolls. He saw Rachel from work, and remembered the Colsons. How distant it all felt now.

If he didn’t get out of here alive, he thought, he’d had a good life. More success than he’d ever imagined. A beautiful family, two great kids. If it turned out badly in the morning and A.J. killed him, at least he’d left things in order for his family. At least he would have died trying to save other people, instead of falling to a heart attack or cancer. He’d be remembered as a guy who’d been brave enough to take on a killer. He’d be remembered not as an even-tempered corporate lawyer, but as a guy who took things into his own hands, who died fighting, like a man.

He startled awake. What time was it? 4:47. He’d dozed off, damnit, but it was probably all right; the sky was still dark. Dark, but he could make out the shapes of the trees now. Just a few more minutes and he should go.

He shook his head, trying to wake up, and then extended his legs, which were stiff. Holding on to the tree for stability, he slowly stood up, moving by inches so as not to make noise. The dark shapes of the big boulders were clearly visible. He waited five minutes, ten, until he could make out individual branches, and then he slowly moved over behind one of the boulders. He felt the surface of the granite and this shocked him awake; he pressed his cheek against its cold roughness. This is surreal, he thought. It can’t really be happening. But it was. He touched his forehead to the granite and said a short prayer. Then he moved slowly to the right, close-hugging the rock, until he could look into the clearing.

Someone was there, sitting back against a tree, his head falling forward. There was a cap on his head, covering his face. Todd felt a jolt of adrenaline go through him; his heart beat so loudly he was sure it was audible. It was too dark still to make out anything else—the color of the clothes, any features. But it was definitely a man, sleeping with a rifle across his knees. A man who had tried to kill them.

Todd stepped clear of the boulder and slowly lifted his rifle, raising the butt to his shoulder. He was exposed, but he didn’t feel any fear. His target was asleep and laid out perfectly. I am about to kill a man, he thought. There was no question that he had to do it. He lifted the rifle and set his eyes to the sight. He put the capped head in the crossbars. Lord Jesus, help me hold steady, and please forgive me, he prayed. Then he held the rifle still and pulled the trigger.

Chapter Sixteen

Gwen

Gwen jumped when she heard the gunshot, even though she’d been expecting it for hours. She looked at Tracy, supporting Oscar from the downhill side. Oscar himself didn’t react.

“That sounds like Todd’s rifle,” Tracy said.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. It’s the same sound as when A.J. used it.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Gwen. “But we haven’t heard the signal.”

They stood quietly, staring down into the valley, toward the lake and the woods, which were starting to reveal themselves in the light. The dog stopped and looked too, ears erect, sniffing the air. If it wasn’t Todd who’d fired the weapon, they’d be in a bad spot—caught out on the slope with no tree or rock cover, still well below the pass. They’d expected to be up and over it by now, and on their way to safety. But it had been slow going with Oscar. They’d left not long after Todd had, moving in a chain, Tracy on the downhill side, Oscar in middle, Gwen above them both. She was glad to be moving, doing something, and it kept them from being cold; the temperature had dropped with the coming of dark. They’d ditched Oscar’s pack, Tracy taking on his few items of clothing and food. But everything about their movement was awkward. The loose rock beneath their feet kept giving way; Gwen would lose hold of Oscar or else fall into him, causing him to cry out in pain. Twice Gwen tripped and fell; once all three of them stumbled. Both she and Tracy had use of a pole, which stabilized their chain. She hadn’t been able to see Oscar’s face in the dark—they hadn’t turned on their headlamps—and she was glad for this, glad not to witness his pain, although she heard it in every grunt and moan and felt it in his staggering movements.

Several minutes passed and Gwen feared that something was wrong. But then they heard it—two more shots in quick succession, the sound welling up out of the canyon, filling and overflowing it like fog.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Gwen said. She thought of all the gunshots she’d heard in her life, some of them far too close. She’d never thought that she would welcome the sound.

“Way to go, Todd!” Tracy said. She pumped her fist in the air, pole dangling off it by the strap. “Oscar, did you hear that? Todd got A.J.! Just a little bit farther and we’ll be over the pass. Then down the other side, and we’re out!”

Oscar nodded—or was it a nod? Gwen couldn’t tell. He was having a hard time standing, and Gwen’s eyes filled as she looked at his scraped, sallow face, his ripped and bloody shirt. He only had shorts on and he was shivering, the jacket draped over his good shoulder not enough against the cold. She didn’t know if he could make it.

“Let’s rest for a minute,” Gwen said. “I need some water and some calories and Oscar could probably use some too.”

“Okay,” Tracy said. “But not for too long. We need to get out of sight. On the off chance that it wasn’t Todd just now.”

They slowly turned to face downhill and positioned themselves on the slope, like children in a single-file line. They dug in footholds so they wouldn’t slip as they sat. Tracy was on the downhill side, ready to stop Oscar or Gwen should either one slide. Oscar was still in the middle, resting his feet in the footholds that Tracy had kicked for him. Gwen was uphill, the tallest for once, looking down at the others and beyond. The dog sat at her side, front paws lower than her bottom as she balanced on the slope.

Gwen drank from her water bottle, which was only a third full, but they’d be over the pass soon, and Tracy said there were streams on the eastern side. She ate half of a protein bar—they’d finished the last of their dinners overnight, crouched behind the rocks. She offered part of the bar to Oscar, but he didn’t respond.

“You’ve got to,” she said. “Eat it, Oscar. Even if you’re not hungry.”

The dog sat up and reached for the food, and Gwen pulled it back. She moved closer to Oscar and fed him while Tracy held Timber by her collar. The dog’s eyes watched every movement; two long strings of saliva hung from her mouth. Gwen felt for her, but there was so little food. Still, she broke off a bite and gave it to her.

“What should we do?” she asked. “Should we wait for Todd here? Should we at least hang around until we see him?”

Tracy shook her head. “No. We’re too exposed. We need to get over the pass. Besides, he’ll catch up. He’s only a couple hours behind.”

Gwen knew she was right—and on top of all that, there was also the unstated but obvious: Oscar had lost a lot of blood, and it wasn’t clear how long he’d stay conscious.

“Okay,” said Gwen. It felt so good to sit down. Her feet were sore and swollen, but she told herself to ignore the pain. They hadn’t slept since their extended nap yesterday morning, and she was tired to the bone. But looking up, she saw that the pass now seemed within reach. It formed an edge against the light blue sky. A mile away at most. They could do it, she thought, gunshot victim or not. They were so close, so close to heading home.

There was a faint sound coming up from the canyon now, like someone chopping wood.

“What is that?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t know.”

They listened and it continued for a few seconds more. Gwen wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant, but it made her uneasy.

“Let’s get moving,” Tracy said, and so slowly, reluctantly, Gwen pulled herself up, using her pole to brace herself so she wouldn’t slip. She and Tracy removed their jackets and then helped Oscar get to his feet. They walked on in the same formation. The terrain was suddenly steeper here, thirty-five or forty degrees, and they’d only gone a hundred feet or so when the ground gave way beneath Tracy’s feet.

Gwen heard her yell “Whoa!” and just like that she was gone, sliding feetfirst down the slope on her belly. She reached out frantically to grab something but there was nothing to hold; it was as if she was sliding down a ski jump. She wasn’t moving especially fast; she just couldn’t stop herself, and there was a particular horror in the mundaneness of her predicament. Gwen saw that Tracy might slide all the way to the canyon floor, more than a thousand feet below. She might have no skin left when she stopped. Then her foot hit some kind of protuberance and she flipped onto her back. Her pack came off but she managed to grab or dig at something so she at least turned sideways, picking up speed as she continued to slide.

Then abruptly she hit a boulder. It caught her violently in the midsection and her body wrapped around it, limp as a rag doll. Her pole tumbled past her. For a moment she didn’t move, and Gwen’s heart seized with dread and disbelief.

“Tracy!” she yelled, and her voice echoed through the canyon; she hoped it was Todd down there and not A.J. “Tracy, are you all right?”

For a moment Gwen thought she was dead. But then Tracy’s legs twitched and she moved an arm. She twisted her body and embraced the boulder, as if holding onto a rock in a river while the current tried to sweep her downstream. Then she lowered her head. Gwen had to look away for a moment, and so she gazed out over the valley, which was suffused with morning light, the ridge across from them basked in orange and gold. It took her breath away. How beautiful—how unbelievably, dramatically beautiful. And totally indifferent to their struggles.

“Shit,” Oscar said, and Gwen realized that she was still holding him up. He’d seen what happened and was looking down the slope.

“Let’s get to a safer spot,” Gwen said, redoubling her grip. “We need to stop and figure out what to do.” There was a rock shelf just ahead of them, and so they shuffled over to it, Gwen digging in her pole to avoid sliding herself, ignoring the pain of the popped blisters on her hand.

Once she got Oscar seated she looked back down the slope. Tracy was struggling to get herself upright. Her legs were moving but she was only using one arm. Her clothes were torn and Gwen could see several streaks of blood on her arms.

“I’m coming down!” she yelled, even though she had no idea how she would.

Tracy shook her head. “Don’t!” she yelled weakly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Are you all right?” Gwen yelled again, but Tracy didn’t answer. She started to move up the slope, though her movements were disjointed; she was laboring, one hand kept grabbing her side, and her face was wrenched with pain. But her legs were both working; at least there was that. She slipped once, twice, but managed to catch herself.

Oscar, watching through bleary eyes, said, “I don’t think she can make it.”

The dog had been lifting her front paws up and down and whining. Now she nudged Gwen’s hand and gave her hoarse bark.

“What?” Gwen asked.

Timber looked at Tracy and then back at Gwen. Then she launched herself down the slope. Gwen yelled, “Hey!” She was afraid that the dog would slide helplessly too, or kick up rocks that might hit Tracy. But Timber moved expertly, somehow in control, like a surfer riding a wave. She started a little avalanche to the right of the boulder where Tracy had crashed; when she got close, she jumped off the rock slide as if turning off a wave and happily ran over to Tracy. She licked and nuzzled Tracy as if she hadn’t seen her in days. What did the dog think she was going to do? Herd Tracy up the slope?

Then Gwen got it. Timber darted up the slope ten or fifteen feet, then came back down, barking, ran up again. She was leading Tracy up, and she could, with her four feet, better manage the terrain; she’d gone down the slope to retrieve her. Tracy grabbed onto her collar and struggled up a few feet. The dog charged ahead again, struggling with the weight, tongue lolling and completely engaged. Tracy stepped and skidded and sometimes crawled behind her, reaching out for the collar with one arm while the other held her side. It wasn’t the same as a horse or a mule pulling her up, or even a Saint Bernard. But it was enough, that bit of energy and help, the upward momentum, the strength of a young creature who was born to work.

It took twenty minutes to get up the two hundred feet she’d fallen, with several breaks along the way. First she stopped to retrieve her pack. Forty feet later she paused to pick up something else—the bear spray—and reattached it to her belt. A little farther on she picked up the gun. Slowly they made their way to the spot where Gwen and Oscar waited; when they got close, Gwen stood and pulled both dog and human onto the small ledge. Once Tracy had gained the level rock, she collapsed onto her back. She reached out to pet Timber. “Good dog,” she said. “Good dog.”

Now Gwen could see the extent of the damage. Tracy’s hiking pants were in shreds at the knees. There were several tears in her shirt and her bare arms were scraped badly, streaked with blood. Her hands had cuts and gashes from grabbing onto the rocks as she slid; there was also a gash on her jaw, and dark bruises were forming on her arm.

“We should clean those up,” Gwen said. “You’ve probably got dirt in them.”

Tracy shook her head. “They’re not serious. They’re just scrapes. Let’s get over the pass first. What I’m really worried about anyway is my ribs. I think I broke a couple when I hit the rock.”

Gwen tried to remember what she knew about broken ribs and came up empty. “Can you breathe okay?”

Tracy shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so.” She closed her eyes and a wave of pain passed over her face.

Gwen tried to stifle her worry. Of all the things she’d imagined going wrong on this trip, and with all the unimaginable ways that things had actually gone wrong, the thought of Tracy being hurt or weakened had never occurred to her.

“We’re almost at the pass,” she said.

Tracy nodded. She looked over at Oscar, whose eyes were open, but glazed. “How you doing, buddy?”

He nodded slowly. “I’m here.”

“I wonder where Todd is,” Gwen said.

“Maybe we can see him by now,” said Tracy, and they scanned the floor of the valley—the lake, the stream, the stand of woods where they’d slept, and where the shot had come from earlier.

“Is that him?” Gwen asked, pointing. There was a human figure, small but moving, just outside the edge of the woods.

“I think so,” Tracy said. “Wave!”

And because she was the only one who was in the shape to do so, because she was the only one who could lift her arms above her head, Gwen stood and waved, extending her arms as far as she could, hoping that her movements would make her visible against the rock, even with the sun behind her. The figure in the valley stopped for a moment; then it, too, began to wave.

“That’s him!” Gwen said excitedly. “He’s okay!” She felt a huge surge of relief.

Then the figure started gesturing, pointing toward the opposite slope, crossing his arms in front of him as if to signal a missed field goal.

“What’s he saying?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t know,” Tracy said.

He seemed to be trying to communicate something, but what could it be? That A.J. was gone? What Gwen did know was that he was alive, and so were they. She waved at him one last time and pointed toward the pass. She was ready to get moving again. And now there were two injured people to deal with.

“Are you okay to keep going?” she asked Tracy.

“I’m ready. More than ready. Let’s get out of here.”

They stood and assembled themselves, Tracy grimacing in pain. Gwen had to help her get her pack on, since she couldn’t twist to one side. And then Gwen helped Oscar up. They determined that it might be easier to go straight up the slope now, making sure they had footholds before transferring their weight. They went single file, Tracy first, then Oscar, with a little help from Gwen, who brought up the rear. Timber scrambled up and down the slope, finding ledges for them to rest on, easier routes up through the scree and between patches of snow. The top of the ridge was sharp against the clear blue sky; it looked like the edge of the world. Gwen imagined the moment when they crested the range. They’d be able to see all the way into the Owens Valley; they’d be able to see highways and towns. Just a little farther, she thought. Just a little bit farther and we’ll be there.

They kicked and hiked for almost an hour and finally the top was in sight. Gwen could hardly contain herself—she loved the moment of reaching the top, when the land on the other side was revealed. The expansiveness of the view would make her feel expansive too; that welling up of joy and wonder was exactly why she hiked. And here, reaching the pass meant more than just a pretty view. It meant the path to their salvation.

They got closer, closer, and the sky seemed closer too. Another fifty feet, another twenty, and then Tracy was there, standing on top like a bighorn sheep, gazing into the distance. Her posture didn’t exude the joy or relief that Gwen was already starting to feel. But maybe she was just too tired. Then Oscar gained the top, his shoulders slumped, and he fell to his knees. And when Gwen reached the top, she saw why.

There was a whole new canyon in front of them, another range on the other side. They were not at the easternmost part of the mountains, as they’d thought, but instead on a crest in the middle. The range they’d just climbed was so tall that it had obscured the view of everything beyond, and what was beyond was an even more imposing set of peaks. Looking down into this large new canyon, Gwen wondered if she was losing her mind. It was barren, at least a mile or two wide, with stretches of tundra but mostly hard gray rock. Here and there along the mountain walls were patches of snow. The small lake at the bottom was turquoise, a color she’d never seen before in nature. A third of it was covered with ice. The whole basin looked like a moonscape, a grayscale negative of the lush valley where they’d just been. She must be imagining this; she must have lost her mind.

But looking at her companions’ faces, she knew she wasn’t seeing things. Oscar covered his face with his good arm and rocked back and forth. Tracy shook her head, angry and speechless. And Gwen looked out at the stark unexpected view and felt despair rise up like a flood. She took off her pack and dropped to one knee, staring off into the distance. This close, she thought. We’d been this close. But they hadn’t been close at all. Walking out of this new canyon would take at least another day—and that would be with everyone at full strength, with adequate food and water. There was no way they could all make it down another slope, through a wide, exposed basin, and over the even sharper, more unwelcoming peaks on the other side. Her despair began to tighten into fear, into panic. Her eyes welled and she started to cry.