High Stakes (High Mountain Trackers Book 2), page 6
Fletch had guided me over a few large rocks to get across the creek to shelter. If he hadn’t grabbed hold of me I’d have ended up in the drink, not that it would’ve made much of a difference since I’m soaked anyway.
As I try to catch a glimpse of Fletch, who disappeared into the darkness, a bolt of lightning suddenly brightens the sky and the landscape around me. It’s followed closely by a heavy rumble I can feel in my bones, and I duck a little deeper under the overhang, pressing my back to the rock wall.
I hate thunderstorms. Have since a lightning strike hit our family home, causing the fire that killed my parents. Where before I thought storms were cozy, nowadays I get nervous and restless. This one is a doozy.
Squinting, I try and catch sight of Fletch, who is out there somewhere, every time the sky lights up. It’s impossible to hear anything over the deep booms of thunder and relentless pounding of the rain. Is it my imagination or is the creek water flowing faster? It’s definitely higher; reaching farther up the slab of rock I’m standing on.
What is probably just minutes feels like a really long time and panic is starting to set in. How much higher will it get? And where is Fletch?
Cold is starting to seep into my bones and I shove my hands in my pockets, encountering the familiar shape of my phone. I pull it out, worried it may have gotten soaked. Not that it would make much difference, I haven’t been able to get a signal up on the ridge, I’m pretty sure I won’t get one here. It’s still alive, but sure enough, I have no bars. But what I do have is the built-in flashlight. I turn it on and aim my phone at the now raging water washing up on the ledge and getting closer to my feet.
Shit.
Already backed up to the rock wall, I inch my way closer to the boulder, wedging myself in the corner.
“Fletch!” I yell, panicked, as I use my phone to light up the other side of the creek.
Where the hell did he go?
A blinding flash is followed by a loud crack sounding way too close for comfort. To my horror I watch as a large pine on the other side of the water starts falling in my direction, and I’m literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. I have nowhere to go.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I turn and press my face against the cold rock. The impact of the tree shakes the ground beneath my feet and when I peek over my shoulder, I’m confronted with a tangle of branches just inches from my face.
I’m trapped.
That water is going to come higher and I won’t be able to get away.
My chest feels tight and my heart is racing. Each breath is more labored as I have trouble pulling in enough air. Little dots of light swim in front of my eyes and blood roars in my ears.
“Nella!”
The sound of my name is little more than a whisper and I’m afraid I’ve imagined it. Relief should flood me, but instead panic grabs a firmer hold. My knees buckle underneath me and my back slides down the rock until my ass hits the ground.
I’m so stupid, I should’ve listened. There’s no one else to blame, I’m going to die here and there will be no one left to look for my sister.
Pippa.
The pain in my chest is overwhelming and I welcome the darkness pulling me in.
“…breathe with me. You’re okay. In and out. Come on, Nella.”
Cold, wet hands lift my face and I blink a few times. Fletch’s dark brown eyes are just inches away, scrutinizing me with concern. Water is dripping down the salt-and-pepper lock of hair plastered to his forehead.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m okay,” I rasp.
“Good,” Fletch says, grabbing my hands.
Then he gets to his feet, pulling me up with him. Over his shoulder, I catch sight of the tree which appears to have quite a few branches missing.
“How did you—”
“My KA-BAR knife. Always have it on me.” He turns and pulls me to the gap he’s created.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
I dig my heels in. The storm is still raging and as much as the close confines under this overhang scare me, going out in that weather terrifies me even more.
“I went out to find us a better shelter. The weather doesn’t look like it’ll let up any time soon. We need to get out of here.”
“What do you mean we need to get out of here? Where are we gonna go?”
“Higher ground. There are crevices and caves all over the mountain. One that looks large enough just above us.”
How on earth does he propose we get up there? Even if it wasn’t storming outside, trying to get up that nearly sheer wall of rock would be madness.
“I can’t.”
I shake my head and pull my hand from his.
“We have no choice. At this rate we’ll be knee-deep in water soon. Logs and debris are starting to come down in the creek and you could get knocked down and washed away.”
Well, I definitely don’t want to get swept off by the water, but I’m also not so sure if I’m ready to put my life in Fletch’s hands. He’s not waiting for an answer though, and takes my hand again to pull me to his front.
“Up you go,” he announces before grabbing me around the waist and lifting me up.
The last person to pick me up was my father when I was around twelve, which is why I’m so shocked, I can’t get out a single word of protest. I’m a solid one seventy-five and this man lifts me right off my feet like it’s nothing.
“Grab onto that fat branch above you,” he instructs me.
I look up, blinking against the sheet of rain, and notice the branch he’s talking about resting on the overhang above us.
“I’m right behind you,” he says when I hesitate. “You pull up and I’ll give you a shove. Grab it as high as you can and swing a leg over.”
I almost laugh out loud at his suggestion.
“It won’t hold.”
“Yes, it will. Trust me.”
“You can’t seriously think I can climb up there.”
I try to look behind me but only see part of the top of his head.
“Now, you’re fucking giving up? Give me a break. You’re the single-most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Didn’t take you for a quitter.”
His tone is derisive and it burns because he’s right. I’m not a quitter, at least not when it comes to my sister. Apparently, I lack the same drive when my own ass is on the line.
Motivated by embarrassment, I reach high and grab hold of the thick branch. Then, painfully aware of my less-than-athletic abilities, I attempt to swing a leg over the branch. Fletch’s hands spread wide under my ass, shoving me higher. After a bit of a struggle, I manage to get upright, straddling the thick limb.
“Atta girl,” he mumbles below me. The compliment wraps around me like a warm cloak. “Now shimmy up to the ledge. I’m right here.”
I glance down at his upturned face, his dark eyes calm and reassuring. Oddly enough, I trust him. He won’t let me fall. Then I look up to find the next hold for my hands and ungracefully make my way up the branch. By the time I reach the ledge, determination has taken the place of the sheer panic I felt earlier.
When I turn and look down, Fletch is already halfway up the branch, making it look shamefully easy.
Eight
Fletch
My plan had been to grab whatever dry wood I could find so we could get a fire going. It gets cold at night up here, especially when you’re soaking wet. Unfortunately, that wood has probably washed down the creek by now.
I’d just been making my way across when I heard the crack and barely managed to jump out of the way when this damn tree came down. For a few minutes there my heart stopped until I was able to reach Nella. I was worried I’d find her crushed underneath.
Couldn’t have handled another death on my conscience.
Another loud rumble of thunder outside has the woman across from me scuttle farther away from the opening. It’s quite the storm and, so far, doesn’t show signs of letting up. The crevice we’ve found shelter in isn’t that big—probably not even enough room for me to stretch out in—but at least it’s dry.
“Not a fan of thunderstorms?”
I barely see the shine of her eyes as she turns them to me.
“No,” she confirms in a shaky voice.
“We’re safe here,” I assure her. “We just need to wait it out.”
Which reminds me, I’d better let Sully know where we are.
“Sully, you there?”
“…Affirma…”
The weather is messing with the radio signal.
“We found shelter, west side of the creek. Do you have an update on the weather? Over.”
“Repeat.”
I do as he asks, hoping enough of my message gets through.
“…storms coming…north. Sh…early morning.”
Fuck. Sounds like we’ll be stuck here until daylight.
“Roger. Out.”
I slip the radio back on my belt and unclip my backpack, pulling it in front of me. I want to take stock of our supplies, I’m sure the night will be a long one. First thing I grab is my flashlight, which I turn on before putting it down. Then, one by one, I empty the rest of my pack on the ground in front of me.
Water flask, three protein bars, a length of rope, my multi-purpose tool, first aid kit, a small mirror, matches and a flint, spare ammo, water purification tablets, fishing line and a hook, and at the bottom of the pack I find the solar blanket. I also have a compass on my watch and of course the radio. We’re not doing too bad.
The sound of rustling has me look over at Nella, who is following my lead and is emptying out her smaller pack. It’s basic, but not bad. She has some food and a water bottle as well, which along with mine, should be enough to sustain us through the night.
“Apple?”
I notice her hand holding up the fruit is still shaking but the panic has gone from her eyes. When I found her earlier, she was out of it—looked like she was having a panic attack—but all it took was a bit of coaxing for her to snap out of it. Not sure what triggered it in the first place, but it’s clear she’s not a fan of thunderstorms, and she did narrowly escape an unfortunate encounter with a tree. She may be shaking but she’s tougher than I would’ve given her credit for.
“We can split,” I suggest, using my blade to slice it in half before handing her portion back to her.
We eat the apple in silence, each lost to our own thoughts until Nella speaks up.
“I hope Pippa has shelter.”
“She’s been out here a while so I’m sure she has,” I offer.
That is, if she’s still alive, but I keep that to myself. Even if she is, our chances of tracking her down have been greatly reduced by this storm. Any traces will have been washed away by the time this is done.
A reasonably healthy person can survive without food for several weeks, but not without water. My gut tells me if Nella’s sister is still alive, she won’t have ventured too far from the creek. And if she’s smart, she would’ve headed downstream.
Cedar Creek runs into the Kootenay River, just a few miles north of Libby. I’m guessing the distance from here to the river, which runs parallel to the US-2, is about four-and-a-half miles as the crow flies. Healthy, she should’ve been able to make that in a day, even in this terrain. But I’ve seen the blood, she may well be injured and hunkered down.
Or, she’s dead.
A light clicking noise has me looking over at Nella. She has her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. The clicking is from her teeth chattering. She’s freezing.
I grab the Mylar blanket and crawl over to her. When I touch the back of her hand it’s like an ice cube. I’d intended to wrap her in the blanket, but feeling how cold she is I think better of it.
“Scoot forward a bit.”
As soon as she moves, I slide behind her, my back against the rock wall as I pull her between my legs, covering us both with the blanket. She doesn’t protest and seems to press herself into the heat still radiating from me.
“Tell me about your sister. What’s she like?”
My real interest is in Nella herself, but I figure I could probably find out more about her this way than to ask her directly. Somewhere between our first face-to-face meeting and now, this woman has stirred my curiosity. I know she’s tenacious, I know she has balls, and I know she’s protective enough to step well out of her comfort zone to find her sister. I’ve also been able to deduce from remarks she made that they have no direct family left, that Pippa is the adventurous one of the two, and that Nella prefers the safety of a boring life.
Or so it appears.
“She’s a mechanic,” Nella surprises me by sharing. “She always marched to her own drum, sometimes to the despair of our parents. When I chose piano lessons, Pippa opted for the electrical guitar. She wanted to play soccer instead of the dance classes I was enrolled in.” She chuckles softly, her back against my chest gently shaking. “She was determined to be unpredictable, but by the time she announced she wanted to fix cars for a living, not even my parents were surprised.”
She’s suddenly quiet and I immediately miss the soothing sound of her voice.
“You lost your parents,” I prompt, interpreting her abrupt silence as grief.
I feel her nod.
“They’ve been gone for a long time,” she confirms.
“You must’ve been young.”
“I suppose. Although I’d graduated university and was already working at the time. My sister was still in college though. It was tough on her.”
It doesn’t take much imagination to deduce Nella took over the parental role, putting aside her own grief to help her sister through hers.
“She can’t be that much younger than you are,” I point out.
“Three years.” Then she shifts slightly and twists her neck so she can look at me. “Is that your way of finding out how old I am without asking my age?”
My grin is involuntary at the unexpected tease.
“I’m forty-seven if that makes it easier,” I confess and grin wider when her mouth falls open.
“Forty-seven? That is entirely unfair.” She’s clearly annoyed. “Why is it that men generally age better than women? It’s like nature is determined to announce our gender has an expiration date when guys get unlimited shelf life. Gray hair enhances a man’s looks, but we’re supposed to dye it to hide the evidence. It’s just wrong.”
Amused, I pick up a strand of her hair. It’s almost dry and shows the occasional silver strand.
“You don’t dye yours,” I point out. “I like it like this. It’s real.”
She huffs but doesn’t say anything.
“Forty-eight?” I taunt her, knowing full well she can’t be much over forty. Not with that flawless skin and those plump lips.
“I am not,” she huffs, jerking away from my chest. “Forty-three, if you must know.”
Chuckling softly, I ease her rigid spine back against me. She’s long stopped shivering and seems to have forgotten about the continuing thunder outside.
Then I lean forward and put my lips by her ear.
“For your information, I wouldn’t have given you a day over forty.”
Nella
I startle awake and it takes me a moment to remember where I am.
The first thing I notice is the absolute silence. No wind, no rain, and no thunderstorm. Light is coming in from outside and I try to push myself up when my hand encounters firm muscle.
“Morning…”
Fletch’s gruff voice sounds even raspier than normal, and far too close to be decent.
I catapult myself to the opposite side. When I look back at him, he’s wearing a sardonic smile on his far-too handsome face. He’s still sitting with his back against the rock, his hair standing on end—probably run through with his hand a few times—but it does little to dull the overall appeal.
I’m trying to come to terms with the fact I slept cuddled up to this man, when my bladder suddenly announces itself. Loudly. I’m stuck in a hole in the rock the size of a generous closet…with Fletch, and I desperately need to pee.
Fletch gets to his feet and makes his way over to the opening, bracing himself with a hand as he sticks his head outside.
“Weather’s cleared. We should be able to get out of here,” he announces, turning back inside to grab his pack. “I’m just going to find us a safe way down. Won’t be long, so do what you need to do.”
Then he disappears outside.
He must’ve noticed me squirming. Normally I’d be mortified but the urge to relieve myself is too big. I retreat as far from the opening as I can get and struggle to get my jeans down. My clothes have dried on my body overnight and my hair is probably a bird’s nest. I feel grimy but there’s not much I can do about that so I quickly squat, holding onto the wall to keep my balance.
When I step out—feeling much better—the bright sun is almost blinding. Blinking a few times, I peek over the ledge to see the tree I clambered up last night and the creek below, still churning with debris. I’m not exactly looking forward to taking the same route down we came up. I look around me for other options. The ledge I’m standing on ends abruptly on one side but looks to extend for about twenty feet on the other, before it disappears where the rock face curves back.
That’s where a few moments later Fletch steps into view.
“Ready?” he asks when he reaches me.
“Yes.”
“Follow me and stick close to the wall.”
I see why when we round the corner. The ledge narrows to maybe half a foot and I hesitate, the drop is much farther here than where we were.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” he says as he pulls the rope from his pack and ties one end around my waist. The other side he wraps around himself. “It’s only a few feet before we get to the trees.”
I glance around him to find the few feet he’s talking about are at least twenty. That’s a long way to be hanging over what has to be a thirty-or-forty-foot drop.
“Nella,” he says firmly, and I pull my gaze from the drop to focus on his face. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. This is the safer option; you’ll have to trust me on that.”
