Fade to Grey (Book 1): Fade to Grey (22 page)

She finished her hot chocolate and said, “So grandpa sent you
after me, right?  And for some reason there’s no helicopter ride at the end of
what so far has not been my dream come true.”

“Emily, I have a lot of things to tell you, a lot of things
have happened in the past few days, world changing things we think. I really
need you to listen, ask questions if you have to but let me tell you what’s
been going on, OK?”

To her immense credit she did just that. I spent the next
hour or so telling her everything I could think of. I thought about holding
back on some of the stuff like the extra fuel that Walter had, but I figured
that if Doc was in our group, there was no real reason to keep secrets from her.
Part way through my story I saw her shiver again slightly, maybe from the cold—maybe
from what I told her about my sweep team’s encounter with the yellow eyed ghoul.

“That was Derek,” she said, “and Anthony, the big black guy
was my PA, photographic assistant. He was such a sweet guy,” she wrapped her
arms around her shoulders, quivering.

I scooted next to her, selecting a mostly dry blanket from
the pile on the floor and put it around both of our shoulders. She wedged up
against me as I continued. I went over the decision to send Michelle and Uncle
Andy for the radios and me and Max up here. I told her about my trip on the
Gator and fighting my way through five miles of hard brush to get to the clearing.
About the only thing I left out was watching her give herself a sponge bath. When
I was finished I told her that we needed to leave first thing tomorrow morning,
and reminded her to take only what she could comfortably carry for an extended
journey through some hard country. She looked around the tent, and said, “I
don’t think you understand this Eric, but there’s over $50,000 worth of camera
equipment in this tent. I’m responsible for that, I can’t just leave it here.”

I took a deep breath before replying. “Take only what you can
carry,” I said slowly, “we’ll try and come back later if possible to pick up
the other stuff, OK?” She and I both knew I said that just to pacify her.

“Where is your tent?” she asked.

I started to describe the little alcove in the willows and
she jumped in with, “That’s right next to where the eagle’s nest is, right?” I
nodded yes.

“I know right where you are. Did you take the lake trail to
get here?”

I told her about my journey through the willows and on the
old game trail, but she shook her head and said, “There’s a lot easier way to
get back.” She then described a roundabout way following a route that encircled
the lake. I pulled out my map and she showed me. Her way was at least a half mile
longer, but if it was a clear path it might be faster.

The first intermittent drops of rain tapped against the nylon
tent fly. Every so often the wind direction would change, snapping the
shelter’s fabric against itself. It was obvious to me that this particular tent
was chosen more for its advertising value than its harsh weather protection
ability. I told Emily that.

She looked around and said, “I think I’ll be OK tonight.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, “You’re more than welcome to spend
the night with me and Max.”

She appeared to be considering that, but then shook her head
and said, “No, I’ll be fine here, and besides I don’t have many dry clothes
left thanks to you and your saber tooth timber wolf there, so I don’t want to
go out in this weather again.”

“Alright, I’ll be over first thing in the morning, breakfast
is on me.” I said it with a smile and she smiled back; the bits of swamp mud
between her teeth and her hot chocolate mustache starting my laughter over
again. She caught the direction of my gaze and realization crossed onto her
face. As I was reaching into my backpack to grab my rain gear, she was
squinting into a small mascara mirror and swearing. As I left the tent, the
bottom dropped out of the sky.

It took me almost forty-five minutes to make it back
following her trail. Like I’d imagined, it was a lot longer, but like she
described, it was a lot easier. Kudos to both of us. When I made it back I fed
Max and heated up some water for another freeze dried Mountain House meal for
me, then stripped out of my dirty clothes and gave myself a thorough “baby
wipes” bath. I put on some clean clothes and slid inside my sleeping bag. I
hadn’t hung the center compartment of my backpack in the tree. I was sure that
nothing would be moving in this weather. About 2:00 AM my career as a psychic
ended.

April 23
^rd

So much to tell, oh . . . so much to tell. Where to begin? My
usual predicament strikes again. Well, let me look at my watch . . . OK it’s
almost 11:00 PM. So it’s been almost twenty-four hours since my last update. Let
me start there.

I must have been tired because the last thing I remember was
getting in my sleeping bag. I was probably asleep before my head hit the
pillow, but it hardly seemed like I had closed my eyes when Max let out a low
continual rumble. I groggily reached out my hand and rubbed his hind quarters
but he didn’t stop. The waves of rain were pummeling my tent, blowing it almost
sideways in the hard wind. I looked at my watch, the luminescent numbers
indicated 2:13 AM. Max’s rumble slowly increased in intensity until it was a
growl. That woke me up. It was pitch black inside my tent as I quietly felt for
my backpack and released the 10/22. I dug my hand into one of the side pockets
of the Osprey pack and pulled out a twenty-five round magazine, slipping it in
place of the ten round factory one I had in the rifle. I knew the chamber
already had a round ready to go in it. There’s no sense in carrying a gun if
you’re going to have to fumble around trying to get it ready to fire should you
need it in a hurry. Identify your target, click off the safety, point, fire if
required. That should be the process. I was under no illusions about the effectiveness
of a 22 against a bear, but a face full of twenty-five CCI hypervelocity Stingers
should add quite a bit of discouragement, and then there was Max to deal with. Over
the sound of the storm I heard something moving outside. My 10/22 has a small
but very bright quick release weapon light mounted on a rail system built in to
the folding stock, but if I turned it on right now I would flood the inside of
my tent with light, effectively blinding me as well as backlighting my entire
shelter, kind of like turning on the “open for lunch sign” to any nearby bears.
I slowly got on one knee and used the tried and true Braille method to trace my
fingers around the zipper line until I found the pull. Grasping it with the
thumb and forefinger of my left hand, I gently eased it down about a foot, just
enough for me to thrust the rifle out far enough that the weapon light would
illuminate my target and not the inside of my tent. A blast of cold air shot
through the opening as I steadied myself, reaffirmed my grip on the gun and got
ready to flip the switch on the light. The noise was closer. It was now or
never. I flipped the switch and turned a dark, stormy wedge shaped swath of
North Dakota into daylight, well, not quite. The wind was slapping the rain fly
against my tent roof, sending cascades of water droplets sparkling through the
beam of my light, my right finger was on the safety, ready go if necessary. I
saw nothing, scanned a little right—nothing. I started panning left  . . . THERE! 
Twenty-five feet away, jet black, low to the ground and moving slowly with a
rolling motion . . . pink feet. Pink feet?  WTF?  I blinked my eyes hard,
trying to squeeze some of the sleep sand out of them. It shifted again,
rolling, sitting upright . . . “Eh . . . . . . . . . . . . . Errrr . . . . . . .
Er . . . icccc . . . .”

Holy crap!  I use my left hand to thumb the release for the
light, freeing it from the rail while my right hand was jerking down the tent
zipper. “Max, wait,” I said to him as I took off outside into the storm, the
icy rain shocking me fully awake. I could hear him whine in complaint—he wanted
to be where the action was. Five seconds later I was leaning over Emily,
pulling her to her feet. She was wrapped in a dark soggy sweatshirt and
sweatpants, no hat, pink tennis shoes and gloves. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably
as she mumbled parts of my name.

“Eri . . . ri . . . . . . Eh . . . . . . Ka ka ka . . . . . .
.colddd . . . .”

Two half steps later her knees buckled and she collapsed, I
managed to catch her just before she smacked into the rocks. I picked her up
and carried her into my tent, shoving the flap aside with her dangling arm. Part
of the training that I’ve gone through in the past few years has been to get
certified as a wilderness first responder, kind of like a “backwoods paramedic.”
Emily was in real danger from hypothermia.

“Emily, listen to me, we’ve got to get you out of these wet
clothes right now, do you understand me?” She was shivering and shaking so hard
I couldn’t tell if she understood. I didn’t have time to repeat it. Grabbing
the bottom of her sweatshirt I yanked it up over her head, she had some kind of
yellow long sleeve shirt underneath, it came off just as fast. I gently but
quickly lowered her onto her back and shucked her sweat pants off, turning them
inside out as they went down. The ankle cuffs caught on her tennis shoes so I
grabbed them through the material and yanked of them off together. Her socks
and pink gloves were next. She had nothing else on. Scooping her up I moved on
my knees over to my sleeping bag, Max was standing, sniffing, watching—unsure. I
slid Emily inside my sleeping bag, it’s an oversize model lined with flannel, twenty
degree rating I think. At some point, I don’t remember when, I had clenched my
weapon light between my teeth to free both of my hands. Tearing open the top
section of my backpack I grabbed the Pocket Rocket, set it on a level spot then
lit it. I took my stainless steel mug from my mess kit, used the water from my
canteen and set it on the stove. I could see Emily shivering inside the sleeping
bag. I started to get really worried. I threw a tea bag and a few sugar cubes
in the mug, testing it with my finger—not warm enough. The same zip lock bag
that had the tea and sugar in it also had a few of the red swizzle sticks, so I
grabbed several and stuck them in the mug. I was starting to get a little
chilled myself from where my clothes had been soaked carrying Emily. I stripped
off my sweatshirt and rechecked the tea—I needed to get her core temperature up
as fast as possible and warm liquids are the best way, if she was capable of
drinking—still not warm enough though. Two minutes later I tested it again, it
was hot enough now so I pulled the mug off and shut down the stove. Reaching
down I held the cup near her face, swizzle sticks very close to her mouth.

“Emily, drink . . . Come on Emily, you need to drink this
right now. Come on.” She raised her head slightly, neck trembling, trying to
catch the small straws with her unsteady lips. I guided them in and watched her
take a few tiny pulls.

“That’s good, keep trying . . . you need to get this all down
as fast as you can, OK?” Several more minutes of encouraging and guiding the
straws to her lips accomplish that task, but she was still shivering just as
hard. I reached inside my sleeping bag and put my hand on her bare stomach, it
was ice cold. Crap.

“Emily . . . Emily, can you hear me?” She mumbled something
incoherent. “Emily, I need to get you warmed up, OK?  Emily, I’m going to get
into the sleeping bag with you, you’re going to be fine but we need to get you
warm right away, OK?”

I stripped off down to my briefs and climbed into the
sleeping bag with Emily, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close,
spooning as much as the width of the sleeping bag would let me. I’ve got to
tell you, being in intimate proximity with a very cute Asian lady was the
furthest thing from my mind at that point. She was freezing cold, trembling
with each shallow breath. I could feel tremors in every part of her body. Her
hair was still soaking wet so I gently pulled as much of it as I could up and
out the top of the sleeping bag, grabbed my poncho liner that had slid to the
side and pulled it over top of our faces. Ten minutes later I spun, pulling her
arm up and over me as I crushed my lower body against her legs and torso. I
flipped sides three more times over the next hour, always molding myself as
close as I could get to her body. My weapon light was still on, still providing
dim illumination from underneath whatever item of wet clothing had covered it. Her
chest was pressed against my shoulder blades before the third turn—I disengage
her arm and spun, facing her. Her eyes fluttered open, the dim light causing
specks of golden yellow to dance across their surface as she looked at me. Her
body had stopped quivering, she seemed to be breathing easier. She slowly moved
her arm to reach around the back of my neck, pulled herself closer, her lips
pressed into my chest, planting a soft kiss there. “Thank you,” she murmured as
she fell asleep.

I stayed awake for another hour or so before sleep took over
my tired body. When I awoke, it was like emerging from a dream. There were
gentle kisses on my neck, my ears, my shoulder—they turned urging, insistent—accompanied
by the erotic fragrance of dog breath. Ugghhh . . . dog breath. The kisses
turned into licks, then hair pulling and paws on my face. Max! Sometime during
the night I had returned to spooning Emily, her back was molded to my chest,
the top of my thighs underneath the back of hers. Her head was lying on my right
arm, and she was clutching my left arm against her chest. Directly against her
chest. Her bare chest. She was sleeping easily; breathing deep and steady
snuggled against me inside the warm sleeping bag. Too warm right now. Max “wet
nosed” my ear again and gave a little whine, he needed to go outside—so did I. I
carefully slid my hand away from her grasp and eased out of the sleeping bag,
taking care to keep her covered as much as possible. It was still rainy, windy
and cold outside, I could hear the “tic-tic . . . tic-tic-tic” of scattered
bits of sleet mixed in as well. As quietly as I could I threw on some clothes,
unzipped the tent enough for Max to get out and followed him into the rain,
rezipping the tent behind me. It was a miserable outside, windy and cold with
leaden gray skies. I walked about sixty feet away from the tent, found a little
cut out in the willows and relieved myself. I hadn’t thrown my rain gear on so by
the time I made it back my sweatshirt was pretty wet. Entering the tent I saw
Emily sitting up, sleeping bag still wrapped around her, hair bunched up and
tasseled around her face, neck and shoulders. She looked up at me with a sleepy
smile and said, “My turn, got any clothes I can wear?”

I dug into my backpack and pulled out a set of Under Armour
thermals; they fit snug on me but would hang off of her like drapes. I added a
dry long sleeve sweat shirt and one of my tee shirts, the one that said, “NORTH
DAKOTA WILDLIFE CONSERVATION OFFICER TRAINING SCHOOL” left over from my days in
the academy. I handed Emily the pile of clothes and then turned around, giving
her some privacy.

A few seconds later she said, “Can you pass me my shoes?”

“They’re still wet, gonna be cold too,” I replied.

“I know, but they’re better than nothing. Do you have any
Kleenex or toilet paper?” she asked.

I reached into my backpack and removed a small roll of toilet
paper, held it out behind me and felt her take it.

“You can turn around, I’m dressed now. Can I borrow your
raincoat?” she added.

I leaned over to the edge of my tent past the backpack and
retrieved the jacket section of my wet weather gear. Spinning around on my
knees I saw that Emily was standing in the center of my tent, scrunched over a
little to clear the ceiling and looking decidedly like a homeless person with
the huge baggy clothing of mine she was wearing. I’m six foot-four inches, and she
was barely five feet tall, and when she took the raincoat and put it on, it
added to the illusion that she lived in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere.

“Can you make us some tea or hot chocolate?” I nodded and she
went out into the rain.

I spent the next few minutes cleaning up the tent, moving all
of the wet clothes off to the side and out of the way. Max has a towel, a big
light purple beach towel that travels with us for his bed. I call it his
“Barney.” Because of the color. But you probably figured that out. Barney was
scrunched up into a pile near the door so I straightened him out, giving Max
his “personal space area” for when he returned. I lit the stove to start some
water boiling for hot chocolate, cracking the window cover open a slight bit
for some ventilation. I had a few packs of instant soup out as well, although I
wasn’t really in the mood for soup. I wasn’t really hungry at all for some
reason. A few minutes later just as the water started boiling Emily returned. She
took off my rain jacket and her shoes, scooted across the sleeping bag and
grabbed my poncho liner, wrapping it around herself as she sat down Indian
style. I only had one large metal cup in my mess kit, so I added two packets of
hot chocolate and stirred it with a swizzle stick, handed it to Emily with the
standard “Careful, it’s hot.” She took it without a word, closing her eyes in
contentment with her first sip. A few seconds later she opened her eyes and took
another sip, deeper, and then offered the cup to me. I shook my head no. Not
that I didn’t like hot chocolate, just that I didn’t like my hot chocolate
boiling hot. Cat tongue they call it. I spent the next few minutes studying
Emily silently, enjoying her obvious satisfaction with the scalding hot
beverage. Her eyes never left me either. She drained the last bit, upending the
mug to catch the slurry at the bottom, then licked her lips and handed the mug
back to me. I gave an involuntary shiver as my rain dampened clothing sent a
chill through me.

“Eric,” Emily said, “you are in real danger in those wet
clothes, you could freeze to death out here, I’ve got to get you warmed up.” She
said it with a perfectly level tone, but the sparkle in her eyes was
unmistakable as she sat up on her knees and leaned over towards me, grabbed the
bottom of my sweatshirt and peeled it up and off of me. My shoes came off next.