Alphas in the Wild (30 page)

The GPS kept him on track, and he wasn’t surprised when he broke out of timber into a clearing with a well-constructed stone and wood cabin.

“Hello.” He raised his voice in greeting.

When he didn’t get a reply, he tried again. Still nothing.

Jared made his way past a bubbling creek to the front of the cabin. On a white board secured to the building someone had written in a scrawling hand.

Tuesday 12th. Went to Evolution Lake for a SAR mission. Back Wednesday or Thursday
.
If you need me before then, Evolution is five miles south along the Muir Trail.

Tuesday the twelfth? He peeked at his watch. Today was Sunday, two weeks later. What exactly did that mean? Had the ranger stumbled into something that held him up? He frowned and turned toward the stout front door, testing the latch. He didn’t expect it to be open, and it wasn’t.

Something tightened unpleasantly in his gut. Anxiety. Fear. Foreboding. He’d hoped against hope for another human being, but the ranger was just as absent as campers at North Lake.

He really was tired. Too tired to knock off five more miles hunting for a ranger who probably wouldn’t be at Evolution Lake, either. No. His best bet would be to pitch his tent in the trees behind the station, make himself something more to eat, and grab some rest. He wasn’t much more than ten or twelve miles from Vermillion Valley Resort, located on Lake Edison to the west. Tomorrow, he’d do the prudent thing and make his way back to civilization. He’d let his fears get the better of him. Remaining in the Sierras for a protracted period of time wasn’t rational.

I don’t know that.

Too weary to think about it, Jared retraced his steps around the ranger cabin. As he hunted for a sheltered campsite, he found a pebbled path leading to a natural hot spring.

“Hey! Son of a bitch.” He grinned. Things were looking up. He’d not only get food and rest. He could also take a bath, a true luxury. Not that the ranger would give a shit, but at least if he showed up—which wasn’t likely—Jared wouldn’t smell quite so bad when he accosted him for information.

J
ared opened his eyes to full daylight. Tugging his arm out of the sleeping bag, he tilted it to peer at his watch. “Shit! Eleven. How could I have slept so long?” he muttered.

He bolted upright in his sleeping bag and rubbed grit from his eyes. The hot water had felt so good, he’d lingered in the hot spring for a long time after he’d eaten. The combination of a full belly, physical exhaustion, and a warm body sent him right to sleep.

He’d obviously needed the rest, but it was well past time to be up and moving. He unzipped the tent and glanced out at a fairly sunny day. Not especially warm, but at least the wind had died down, and the snow from yesterday was well on its way to melting. He could still make Vermillion Valley Resort with no trouble. Surely there’d be someone there who knew something. It was a busy resort on the Sierra’s western slopes. This time of year, it played host to hunters as well as other backcountry travelers.

Before he’d turned in for the night, he’d played his options carefully through his mind. He’d have to leave the backcountry in a few weeks anyway since he lacked winter survival gear. May as well face whatever was waiting back in civilization now.

It couldn’t possibly be as bad as he feared.

He dressed and packed up while heating coffee water on his stove. Once it was hot, he mixed in instant crystals, along with powdered milk and sugar. That and an energy bar would be breakfast. He needed to get moving. He was just putting his cook kit in his pack when an unexpected noise froze him in his tracks.

The characteristic
thump-thump-thump
of a helicopter’s rotors sounded unnaturally loud in an environment that had been devoid of any noise since that day when he’d taken shelter from the explosions.

A reluctant smile formed. He’d been overreacting after all. Nothing was particularly amiss, and the chopper overhead proved it. Leaving the protective circle of trees where he’d pitched his tent, he hurried to where he could get a clear view of the sky. Not only did a helicopter—and one flying damned low—come into view, it was obviously heading right for the ranger cabin.

Maybe the ranger was returning after all.

Jared’s mouth filled with the metallic taste he associated with adrenaline. Now that it came down to it, he wasn’t all that certain he wanted anything corroborated. Not his fears. Or someone casting a patronizing glance his way if he admitted his concerns. He stayed back, well out of the rotor wash, until the bird was settled on the ground, and the pilot cut the engine.

The door opened, and an enormous black German Shepherd bounded out of the chopper and headed right for him, barking ominously.

Jared knew better than to move, so he stood quietly, hands by his sides. The dog stopped five feet away, growling.

“Jake!” a woman’s voice cried. “Stand down.”

The dog spared a glance over one shoulder before he quit snarling, but he didn’t move, either. His intent canine stare bored into Jared, daring him to make a wrong move.

A woman, who looked about thirty-five, strode briskly toward them. She was tall and broad-shouldered. Long, dark hair fell halfway to her waist. Sharp cheekbones and a defined chin lent her an arresting air. Dressed in Park Service brown except for a fluffy, dark green parka and stout, black boots, she examined him closely. When she got closer, she pushed her dark glasses to rest atop her head, and narrowed her blue-gray eyes.

At a hand sign from the woman, the dog retreated to her side.

“Are you the ranger?” Jared asked, then kicked himself. It was obvious from her garb she was a ranger. Maybe not the one who lived here, but it didn’t matter.

She nodded. “Sara Holcomb.” Walking closer, she held out a hand.

Jared clasped it. God, it felt good to touch another human being. “Jared Donovan. I’m glad to see you,” he blurted and released her hand. “Came over the divide last night aiming for this station. Since no one was here, thought I’d head for VVR today, except I got a late start...” He rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I’m babbling. Haven’t seen anyone since— Well, since whatever happened with the ships and explosions. Do you know exactly what that was?”

He held his breath, aware of tension thrumming through his body. Here it was. Either she’d confirm his worst fears—or lay them to rest. He waited, but she just stood there looking at him, the oddest expression on her face. Maybe resignation mixed with compassion.

“Guess you don’t know anything, either,” he said after several long minutes ticked by. “Nice to meet you, but I need to get moving if I’m going to make VVR before dark.”

“Probably not a good idea.”

Jared frowned. “Why not. There’ll be people there, and I can figure out how to retrieve my car. It’s parked in Yosemite Valley—”

She shook her head and made a chopping motion with one hand. “Sorry, I know I haven’t said much, but the last thing I was expecting was to find someone here. Someone human, that is.”

He focused intently. Maybe something was wrong with the woman, like a mental illness. “What do you mean?” he asked, keeping his voice tones neutral. “What would you find that wasn’t human? Are you talking about animals?”

She closed her teeth over her full lower lip. “Explaining will take time. It’s something I don’t have much of right now. I got lucky flying here from LeConte—”

“That’s the next ranger station to the south, right?” he cut in. “Past the Evolution area.”

“Yeah. Anyway, my plan was to come here, pack up a bunch of stuff, and fly right back. Who knows if it’ll still be safe if I wait.”

Tension settled between his shoulder blades and twisted his stomach into a hard knot. Sara sounded serious—and worried—but not crazy. “If it’s not safe for me to go to Vermillion, then where—?”

A bitter laugh shot from the woman, and she looked away. Color stained her high cheekbones as if her outburst embarrassed her.

Annoyance ratcheted his tension upward a notch or two. “Look. Aren’t you supposed to help backcountry travelers?” he demanded, stopping shy of a reminder just whose tax dollars supported her job.

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger before squaring her shoulders. “Yes. I am. The only way I can help you is if you come with me.” She laughed again. This time something hopeless mingled with the bitterness. “I don’t expect you to join up with me. It’s quite a leap of faith, and I don’t have time to explain things right now.”

She gestured with both hands. “Like I said, I need to stock LeConte, which is why I came here.”

Intuition drove his next question. He didn’t want the answer, but needed to know, so he asked anyway. “Stock LeConte for how long?”

Her gaze skittered away. “Maybe forever. However long that ends up being.”

Jared fell back a pace. “Shit! Aw, shit. So it’s true. You guys have radios, so you’d know. Something horrendous happened, and there’s nothing to go back to. At least you can tell me that much.”

Sara nodded. Something suspiciously like tears sheened her eyes. “I thought Jake,” she jerked her chin toward the dog, “and I were the only ones left.”

He’d harbored the same fear—about himself being one of a select group of survivors. It was one of the reasons he’d been so focused first on McClure and then on VVR. To figure things out.

Jared inhaled and blew it out. Then he did it again. His options had narrowed considerably, and he made up his mind. He and Sara were stronger together than individually. “I could help you get things in the chopper,” he offered.

The mask her face had become crumpled, and something akin to hope lit her features. “Does that mean you want to come with me?” She paused a beat. “I wanted to push, but it didn’t feel right.”

“I kind of have to.” He grinned crookedly. “It’s the only way I’ll get you to tell me anything. Is everybody else really dead?”

“Lots are. Others have...changed, but don’t ask me more about that right now. No time, and I can’t stand to talk about it.” All business again, Sara loped to the cabin’s front porch and pushed a key into the lock. “Follow me.”

He ducked into the cabin. Sara stood in a corner unlocking yet a second door that looked like it led into a cellar. “Do you have a headlamp?” she asked.

“Sure. In my pack. I’ll run and get it,” he offered.

“In a minute.” She turned and faced him, pocketing the key. “What I need from down there is ammunition, dog food, and food for us. Cart everything you find outside.”

“Doesn’t the helicopter have weight limits?”

“Of course, but we shouldn’t be anywhere near them. There’re also fuel cans down there. Gasoline for my chain saws. While you’re doing that, I’ll be gathering clothes and gear.” She glanced at her watch. “If we could be gone in half an hour, it would be a plus.”

“Why? Do you have some sort of inside information?”

Sara snorted. “Yeah, right. Wish I did. The sad truth is I don’t know much at all. Just enough to be scared out of my wits.” She turned away.

He hurried outside to where he’d left his pack leaning on a tree. Hefting it, he hauled it in front of the cabin and snapped up his headlamp. Sara didn’t look like a woman who scared easy. To have her admit she was terrified gave him pause. His elation at finding someone to share whatever they faced as a team faded, replaced by grim determination.

No matter what was out there, he’d be damned if he’d let it get them.

* * * *

S
ara’s estimate of how long it would take to load what she needed into the chopper turned out to be wildly inaccurate. Even with both of them working, ninety minutes elapsed before they were ready to leave.

She’d been shocked to see the man in the clearing next to her cabin. At first, she hadn’t believed it, thought he had to be one of the aliens masquerading in human form to trip her up. Once he’d clasped her hand, though, and she felt the all-too-human warmth of him, it took everything in her not to collapse in sobs of relief. Long years of discipline to shield her reactions were all that saved her.

She’d watched the play of emotion cascade over his face at her news nowhere was safe, and that she was planning for an indeterminate time at LeConte. Even with that, his offer to help surprised her. He looked to be an independent sort. Tall and rangy, he was built like a climber, slender with long arms and legs. Coppery hair fell about his face almost to shoulder length, and a weeks’ worth of stubble dotted sculpted cheekbones and a square chin. His eyes were brown, a deep, dark, liquid color that warmed when he smiled. Patched clothing, scuffed boots, and a well-used pack spoke to many miles in the backcountry. She pegged him in his late thirties, but he could be as much as ten years older.

“Is that it?” His voice, a rich, mellow baritone, broke into her reverie.

“Think so.” Sara locked her cabin. She considered putting the storm shields over the windows, but didn’t want to take the time. “I need to top off the chopper’s tank. Then we can leave.”

“You have aviation fuel here?” Surprise flowed beneath his question.

“Sure.” She looked away. Jesus, he was good looking. “This was my station, and I made sure I was ready for damn near anything. This way.” She trotted to where fuel cylinders were stacked and hefted one. He did the same.

“Funny, but I was certain the ranger would be a guy.”

Sara glanced sidelong at him. “Yeah. Most people make the same mistake. We’re actually about fifty-fifty in terms of who lives in the backcountry these days.”

“You said this was your station.” He helped her position the fuel over a funnel, waiting while it poured into the chopper’s tank. “Why are you moving everything to LeConte? Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay here?”

It was a good question. She gave him points for it. “LeConte is over a thousand feet lower. Better hunting. Milder weather. Year round stream.” She paused. “And farther from civilization. It’s thirteen miles up and over Bishop Pass, and then you’re only at South Lake, and it’s another seventeen to a town.”

“Does LeConte have a hot spring?”

“Nope. One amenity that’s lacking.” She glanced his way. “I guess that means you found the one here.”