The Hit, page 13
“Tracer!” Halen called out into the surrounding forest.
Her call went unanswered.
Her heart pounded in her chest, making it difficult to hear anything around her. She looked at the tracks again. Both sets seemed to crash through the underbrush. Broken branches and smeared mud gave indications of the path they’d taken. Long brown hair hung on the broken tip of a tree. Several splotches of blood were smeared across trunks and fallen logs. In a small opening, she found grass that had been matted. Boot heels had pressed into the earth as if Tracer was on his back and trying to scramble away.
Another cold shiver ran down her back. On a fallen log she saw a bloody handprint. As horror filled her mind, heavy snowflakes began to cover the trail.
“Tracer!” Halen screamed louder as panic flooded her. Snow fell in increasing waves, and the wind began its dance, twisting and turning through the trees. The colder air kept the flakes from melting as they began to layer the ground, hiding the trail Halen was following. This new snow sent her mind racing along with her feet as she stumbled through the trees with her rifle slung across her back and Tracer’s hunting rifle held tightly in her hands.
She floundered through the brush and over logs, twisting around one tree, then the next, following the trail before it disappeared under the new snow. The snow was relentless, and that made time her enemy. Panic gripped every fiber of her body as she raced, stumbling through the trees. Then it stopped her cold.
She had lost the trail.
There were no more bloodstains or broken branches. The light had faded doubly fast with the heavy clouds overhead, and the snow had covered any sign of Tracer’s presence. There was no longer a trail to give her a clue of the direction she was to follow. There was only a blanket of innocent white. The sun had set, leaving her in a wilderness alone and unsure.
Halen spun around and around, frantically searching for a clue. In every direction, she saw the same: hundreds of trees quickly being swallowed up by a blanket of white. She looked for anything out of place or anything that looked familiar. Thick, heavy flakes continued adding to the blanket of white. She knew it could easily pile up a foot or more in the high country even though it was now late spring.
Her heart pounded in her chest, causing her head to throb and her thoughts to jumble. She raced several yards in one direction, looking, searching, listening, then raced back looking for anything in the fading light.
“Tracer! Where are you?” she screamed. Heavy flakes prevented an echo from coming back to her. The falling snow suffocated her voice, limiting its reach. “Goddammit!” She kicked at the ground. Looking back the way she had come, she paused. An idea came to mind. Retracing her steps back up the hill to where she knew his tracks were, she looked for any discernible pattern.
“Dammit, nothing,” Halen blurted. She began to circle, pulling the flashlight out of her pack and searching the ground for any hint of the bear or Tracer. Around and around she walked, staying within a few feet of her previous loop. She spiraled out, looking for clues of either one’s passing. The new snow quickly filled her tracks, making it harder and harder to see them and keep an even spacing.
Up the hill and then down, she walked in ever-increasing circles, bending closer and closer to the ground as the flashlight’s batteries gave out. With a final flicker, the batteries died.
Halen stood in the thick, black night. No light from the heavens could penetrate the clouds and allow her to continue. She was alone. Heavy flakes matted her hair. Some of those flakes melted, then trickled down inside her shirt. She knew it was a deadly combination. She was wet from sweat and melting snow, exhausted from the frantic search, and the air was growing colder, but she didn’t care. The shock of cold didn’t matter. The shock of losing Tracer did.
She lifted her head to the sky, heavy flakes mixing with the tears that rolled down her cheeks and neck. Her body shook as she stood alone in the dark, miles from anyone except Tracer. She felt he was close, yet she wasn’t certain. She hoped he was miles away rather than a few feet. He wasn’t her friend; he had kidnapped her. He wasn’t her enemy, because he kept her alive and taught her things. She couldn’t define what kind of relationship they had. At times she felt as if he were keeping her as one would an unwanted pet. Just going through the motions until a better solution could be found.
Tremors took control of her body. The movements shook her violently. Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the spot. Tracer’s rifle folded into her arms as she cradled it like an infant. Bowing her head and hunching her back to the storm, she sobbed into the inky blackness.
She had failed. But she didn’t owe him anything. He was the one who had become upset over a simple question. He was the one who stomped off into the night. He was the one who failed to face his own demons. There was no logical reason she should be out here looking for the man who had kidnapped and brutalized her.
The thought of being alone scared her more than being his unwanted pet. At home she always had someone around. Whether it was her mother, her friends or the cast and crew of a movie, there was always someone to praise or ridicule, someone to work with or shun. She had felt some sort of connection with Tracer. She had felt his cold and icy personality through much of the winter, but there were a few moments where he seemed almost human. It was those moments that made her wonder about him.
Here, there was the purest of elements, as Tracer had told her on multiple occasions. It was survive or die. That was the only law that mattered. She wouldn’t die if a strand of hair was out of place or her red-carpet gown had a hanging thread. It didn’t matter if she responded to a tweet at a moment’s notice or if the color of her dress was azure or Bleu de France. From her current blurred world of white, the difference between the two colors was of no relevance.
The only thing that mattered was that she was alone in a world where she desperately didn’t want to be. The safety of society was hopelessly out of reach. Now that the storm was dumping inch upon inch of new snow, and with a flashlight that didn’t work, she was hopelessly out of reach of the cave’s security. The colossal monster that lurked nearby would be welcomed, if only to focus her attention on something other than being alone.
“Use my bones to pick your teeth,” Halen mumbled.
She sobbed into her lap as the snow piled a layer of the frozen blanket onto her and everything around her. The heavy wet snow would soon burden the branches, causing them to break under the weight just like her loneliness had broken her. She didn’t care if she lived or died. At least if she was dead, she wouldn’t be lonely. Whether it be heaven or hell, she wouldn’t be lonely.
Resigning herself to the inevitable, she relaxed and invited the world to come and take her. Scavengers could pick her bones clean, then scatter them across the mountainside. She would in turn provide a full belly for some creature so that they might live. She consoled herself with the knowledge that if nothing else, she would be valuable to someone or something.
The wind shifted. It didn’t matter to Halen. She would be part of the frozen landscape soon. If only it didn’t smell like a dumpster. She wished she could die in peace with the fresh pine scent, but Mother Nature thwarted her peaceful death. It was one last boot to her middle. Her nose curled at the stench.
Bears smell like rotten meat.
The words ricocheted inside her head as if Tracer were standing right next to her repeating it. An icy chill ran up her already shivering body.
26
Halen sprang to her feet, listening for any sound the bear might make. The heavy snow muffled any noise—she might not hear it at all. She knew it had to be close, because the scent was almost overpowering.
Breathing became a conscious decision. She had to force herself to exhale. When she did, she thought it sounded like a jet engine winding up for takeoff. Her heart hammered in her ears. She didn’t know how to quiet her breathing. With her senses alert, everything was amplified. A snowflake felt like a collision from a car, while the snap of a stick sounded like a clap of thunder.
She jerked her attention to even the subtlest movement only to find falling snow. The putrid smell stung her nose as if someone had dumped her headfirst into a garbage can. She faced the swirling wind and searched the black nothingness, though she knew there were trees and underbrush. There was also a bear lurking in the dark. Eyes open or closed, it all looked the same. She could only feel the weight of the snow and smell the bear that waited just beyond her other senses.
How dare this bear interrupt whatever relationship she had growing with Tracer. How dare Tracer abduct her and abuse her the way he had. How dare anyone put a bounty on her head and hire a hit man to kill her. How dare Tracer cram lessons down her throat. Anger filtered in and replaced the hopelessness that kept her immobile.
“I don’t need your damn lessons. I don’t need any of your stupid teachings. I don’t need the cold or the starvation or that damn crate for a bed,” Halen barked out into the night. “I don’t need the pemmican or the backgammon lessons. I don’t need you in my life!” Halen screamed.
A grunt reached her ears. The smell became stronger.
“and fuck you too, bear!”
Halen screamed, charging blindly toward the origin of the smell. Her numb hands gripped the rifle and her finger was ready to pull the trigger. She felt the power of a hundred screaming women charging toward their freedom. She was going to kill it or die trying.
Into the wind she raced, eager to shove the muzzle of the gun into anything and destroy it. Slamming one foot after another into the heavy snow, she charged. She was sick of the wilderness game. She wanted out, one way or another. She was going to take back control of her life or die.
Branches ripped at her face and clothes. They grabbed at her feet, trying to trip her and bring her down. She wasn’t going to let any tangle of branches trip her up. She was going to find that bear and kill it. Then, as soon as it was light, she would walk out of the secluded forest and back to civilization.
Halen’s feet beat the earth mercilessly as she plunged through the unknown. Her body ricocheted off trees, causing her to flounder and struggle to maintain balance. Branches continued to rip at her body and face. She closed her eyes to protect them from being gouged out, as they weren’t of any use in the black of night anyway. She clutched Tracer’s rifle as if holding on to life itself. Her smaller rifle bounced on her back as she recklessly and blindly charged toward what she knew was certain death.
Her feet carried her into the wind and closer to the rotten stench from the beast that had killed the man who was responsible for her situation. She continued her suicidal charge through the night. Her foot slammed against something hard—something that wasn’t mud or snow. Plunging headfirst, her body continued forward as her feet stayed behind. She toppled over the large mound of snow. Casting her arms out to break her fall, she flung the muzzle of the rifle ahead of her. Its barrel dug deep into the snow and mud. She squeezed the trigger inadvertently and the rifle exploded.
Shrapnel pelted her head. The loud noise disoriented her, causing her to lurch to the side. Ringing in her ears and the black night prevented her from regaining her balance. Halen flopped from one side to the other, trying to get even one foot under her. The soft earth below the snow left her struggling to stay upright. She turned to see what had upended her. With no light, there was nothing to see. She couldn’t even make out the dark trunks of the trees against the white snow. Something had tripped her, and it wasn’t a tree.
The odd sensation unnerved her as she fought to regain a sense of logic. Why was that mound of snow so big and solid? It should have been soft. The air wasn’t cold enough to freeze everything solid like that. Not yet anyway. She would have been able to crunch through any old clump or wade through any of the fresh snow that was still falling and it wouldn’t have piled up in one spot.
She inched her way back toward the lumpy outline. Reaching a hand out, she tested the snow. That was all it was. She scraped at the snow and felt the light, fluffy ice crystals. She scraped again. More fluffy snow. And again.
“Dammit, Halen. Get it together.” Relieved that it wasn’t something more serious, she breathed a sigh. A thought came to her. “Alright. Here’s your photo op, ya flipping vultures.” She laughed into the dark night. “Come and get it,” Halen cried out, laughing at the absurdity and half crying from the crushing weight of the lonely nothingness around her.
Hatred welled up inside as the emotional pinball game continued. Striking out at the soft snow, she contacted a thick mat of hair. The sudden stench of rotten meat came flooding out from its source. She had tripped over the bear and hit it, thinking it was just a mound of snow.
She beat her fist against the large hump—a hump that was the warning sign to all that it was king. The mound was massive, dwarfing her as she railed against it. Even in the blackest of nights, she assumed that something that large should have been as noticeable as a skyscraper or as apparent as paparazzi at a movie premiere. She could pick one of those camera-toting villains out of a crowd, but she couldn’t see a monster even after tripping over it.
Fear of waking the bear spiked her adrenaline and launched her backward, leaving Tracer’s rifle in the snow. She scrambled, kicking at the snow and earth until it only pushed out in front of her feet. Her breathing became labored, and her panic tilted off the scale as the bear inched after her. She scrambled away but didn’t get any further from the creature. Though she couldn’t see it, she felt it, and it was keeping pace with her. She wasn’t getting any further away. She didn’t want to take the time to turn. Turning would only delay her escape, and she would lose sight of the bear.
The bear groaned. The sound wasn’t coming from her, and Tracer was surely dead. She would be too if she didn’t get away. She tossed her head back, slamming it into the tree trunk behind her. She hadn’t gone more than three feet and she wasn’t escaping certain death. The bear wasn’t coming after her. Stopping and holding her breath, she tried to listen to see if the bear was making any sound, but she could only hear the hammering of her heart in her ears.
The dimmest of light illuminated the falling snow on the far side of the grizzly, showing an outline of its massive body. Snow removed from toppling over the beast revealed its form. She carefully watched its chest for any movement. A full minute passed. There wasn’t any. Was the bear dead? Was it sleeping? These thoughts raced through her mind as she continued to stare at it for any signs of life.
There it was. The chest heaved; snow toppled down. Halen reached behind her, grabbed her rifle off her shoulder and fired the tiny projectile into the hump of the bear. The shot sounded like the smack of a flyswatter, and a flyswatter to this bear would be the best idea for an extremely short life. She watched the animal. Again it moved, and this time there was a groan. Halen’s hands ejected the tiny shell out of the rifle and fumbled through her pocket for another shell.
Finding one, she silently cussed at her hands as they shook, making reloading almost impossible. She dropped the shell in the snow. Fishing around in her pocket again, she grabbed two more and tried to funnel them into the chamber, hoping at least one would line up. Another bullet slipped and tumbled to the ground. She tried to slow her heart and her trembling hands. The third bullet tumbled into the chamber. After a nudge and an involuntary shake of the rifle, it settled into the slot. The light was too dim to see if the bullet was aligned, but the bolt slamming home told her that it was.
Pointing it at the bear again, she pulled the trigger. The gunpowder ignited and sent the bullet into it. This time the bear spoke.
27
“S-s-stop.” The warbled and shivering voice reached out from under the beast.
Halen dropped the rifle in the snow and covered her mouth with her frozen hands. She didn’t know how long she stood there. She was too petrified to move. Animals didn’t talk. She looked over the edge of the bear. Tracer’s headlamp lay on the ground, quickly being devoured by the falling snow.
Halen raced around to the other side of the bear and grabbed the light. The scene lit up. Snow piling on the beast made the already massive bear seem gigantic compared to her meager 120 pounds. She didn’t see Tracer. A blanket of white encapsulated everything. At her feet, she found a crimson lake spreading from under the beast. Looking at the bear again, she saw no sign of life, and it looked to be lying at an awkward and unnatural angle. It was certainly dead.
An uprooted tree created a divot in the ground where the bear had collapsed and would never rise again. The snow continued to pile up on the beast and all the surroundings, each new flake stacked like building blocks, one atop the other. Halen looked at her feet and the slushy red pool. There still wasn’t any sign of Tracer.
“Tracer!” Halen screamed into the night.
She listened. There was no reply, no sound and no signs of life.
“Tracer!” she cried again.
Nothing else around her gave any clue to the man’s location. She didn’t want to leave without an idea of what to do. She stepped clear of the blood-tainted snow. Moving the snow around her, she searched the ground, inching her way toward the bear. She remembered the voice. She wondered if she had imagined it—if it was a hallucination, or if Tracer was trying to speak to her from beyond the grave.
She had a friend who claimed to hear people speak to her from beyond their graves. Now she was thinking that her friend might not be crazy after all. Moving her foot around, she began clearing the snow away from her and inched toward the mound. Halen pushed at the thick fur with her foot. There was no motion. She pushed harder. Still no reaction. She stomped on the bear. Nothing. It was still dead.
Curiosity piqued her interest and she began removing the snow from the animal. She wanted to see it up close. The smell made her scrunch her nose. It was barely tolerable. She continued to push aside more snow, finding a hind leg. She looked at the place where she had tripped and tumbled over the animal. She had hit it square in the middle of its body. Working around the leg, she started clearing snow off the beast. She found the second hind leg, then a pant leg and a boot.
