Far Country (14 page)

“Hopefully
he hasn’t found a new hiding place for the key then,” Pete said, heading up to
the parking lot.

By
the time Pete reached the bungalow Chuck had already found the key and was just
coming back outside.  He shrugged at Pete’s questioning gaze.  “Nada.
His uniform from yesterday is still there, tossed on a chair. The house is empty.”

Pete
placed his hand on the hood of Steve’s truck.  “The engine’s cold.  I
don't think he’s used it today.”

Chuck
locked the door to the bungalow and joined Pete in the drive.  Pete was
frowning at his watch. “Why’d they wait so long to check on him? His shift is
almost over.”

“Simple,”
Chuck answered.  He had a doctor’s appointment this morning, so they
weren’t sure when he’d be back. He was going to just work half a day.”

“Couldn’t
he still be there?”

Chuck
shook his head. “That’s why we’re worried. The doctor’s office called the
reception desk an hour ago, wanting someone to contact him and have him call to
reschedule, and also to inform the office that he never showed up for the
appointment, which is odd, because they expected to release him to return to
full duty. I can't believe he'd just skip it...”  The two men stared at
each other thoughtfully.

 “When
was the last time anyone even saw him?” Pete asked at last.

Chuck
shrugged. “He’s been keeping to himself lately.  I don’t think anyone has
spoken to him since he got off of work yesterday around 4:00.”

Pete
nodded. That was true. They had all been giving him his space since Sarah had
died.  “His truck is here, so he probably didn’t go to town at all. He’s
been avoiding all of us since Friday…could be he went hiking on the trails…”

Chuck
nodded. “True, but apparently not on a popular trail – seems like a camper
would have found him by now if anything happened to him on the loop.”

Pete
looked up suddenly. “Unless he went off trail!”

Chuck
rolled his eyes in disgust. “He could be anywhere! We’re going to have to call
the dogs in again if we don’t find him soon.”

“Let’s
go back inside and check for his gear. If he took rappelling gear, it will
narrow the search.”

Chuck
headed back up the steps shaking his head in disbelief.  “That’s a long
shot, Pete.  He knows better than to go rappelling alone.” 

But
a thorough search of the house indicated that was exactly what had happened.
The rappelling gear was missing, along with his hiking boots and day
pack.  Pete and Chuck stared at the uniform tossed on the chair. “I don’t
think he slept here last night,” Pete said uneasily.  “Deb said she came
by this morning and the place was dark.  He didn’t answer the door.”

“Indian
Face is the nearest decent,” Chuck agreed.  “We should probably start
there.”

Pete
shook his head.  “Not Indian Face. He likes the Knife Edge descent better.
Last month he took Deborah and me to an isolated waterfall. He might have
decided to go out there and be by himself.”

A
low rumble met their ears as they headed for the truck. Chuck glanced up at the
murky western skyline. “Great.” he muttered. “Another afternoon thunderstorm,
by the looks of it.  No point in calling in the dogs. They won’t get here
before the rain washes away all the scent.”

Pete
stared at the advancing line of clouds.  “I’ll grab my gear.  If we
push it we can make the Wall before the storm hits.”

“And
get soaked, ‘cause if we’re wrong, there’s no way we’ll make it back before
this lets loose,” Chuck agreed glumly.  “If he’s not hurt when we find
him, he’s
gonna
wish he was,”  he
grumbled.  “This is not my idea of fun.”

           
He wasn’t dead. Not yet, at least. Steve wasn’t sure whether this was one of
Reverend Graham’s  miracles, or a glimpse of the hell that was waiting for
him. The only thing he really knew for certain was that pain was everywhere.

           
When David had cut through the rope, Steve’s outward arc had carried him away
from the base of the rock wall. His twenty foot free fall had ended in rain
soaked grass instead of the rock strewn base of the cliff. It was definitely a
softer landing, and the reason he was still alive at all, but even so he had
bounced on impact, shattering ribs and at least one leg. He was pretty sure his
shoulder was dislocated as well. The helmet had done its job and kept his skull
from cracking open. It had done nothing, however, to protect him from the
throbbing ache that made it nearly impossible to think of anything but how to
make it stop hurting.

           
Steve was conscious for perhaps the third time that he remembered since the
fall. He had come to the first time during the night, probably shortly after
the impact.  Shock, and the cold night air sent wracking shivers through
his broken body so that he vomited from the pain, and mercifully, passed out
again.  He remembered a brief time when the sun had first warmed his body
and the convulsive shivering had ceased. He had tried to crawl then in his
confusion, thinking that he would stand up and walk out of there, but the
attempt had instantly wrapped him in excruciating waves of pain, and once again
he had passed out.  Now he was awake again, and trying desperately not to
move. Even so, tears ran down his cheeks with each ragged and agonizing
breath.  The sun was high in the sky now, the unrelenting rays burned the
skin on his face and the sodden heat made inhaling even more difficult. Steve
could feel himself weakening as his body grew more dehydrated.

           
Drink some water.

           
The voice was clear and firm.  Steve’s heart leapt in incredulous hope.
Someone had come for him! For the first time since the fall, Steve opened his eyes,
expecting to see someone from a rescue team kneeling beside him, but no one
appeared. The disappointment was overwhelming. He should have known better! No
one knew where he was.  No one would even notice he was missing until he
didn’t report for work. He suddenly remembered the doctor appointment scheduled
for that morning. They would probably think that he was in Winston Salem still,
at the appointment that would certify him to return to full duty at last. 
Steve almost laughed at the thought.
It would be hard to certify a dead man!
Steve let his eyes close again. He knew he couldn’t survive much longer with
his injuries. Better to simply fade into the twilight zone of unconsciousness,
and allow nature to do its job.

           
Drink the water, Steve
.

The voice again! Startled,
Steve opened his eyes, and slowly lifted his head from the ground, squinting
against the yellow glare of the sun. Who was out there? Why didn’t they show
themselves?  Something brushed his cheek, and he blinked to help himself
focus. It was the drinking tube to his camel pack! Water…!  Greedily, his
cracked lips closed around the tube and the water poured into his mouth,
bathwater warm, but still wonderful. Each painful swallow brought relief to his
parched throat. He could almost feel the liquid flooding through the cells of
his body!

 Suddenly
exhausted by the effort, Steve allowed the tube to slip out of his mouth, the
momentary relief instantly replaced by bitterness. What good would the water
do, except postpone the inevitable?

           
You do not have to die here
.

           
Then Steve had a startling thought. Had David returned to enjoy the fruit of
his handiwork? Was he was sitting out there, somewhere just beyond his sight,
watching Steve die slowly and painfully? If so, reminding him of the water pack
on his back was simply David’s way of ensuring that Steve did not die too
quickly or easily.  He would want Steve to suffer as long as possible, in
payment for what he had done to Sarah.

           
Well, let him watch, then,
Steve thought tiredly.  It was an end he
deserved. After all, it was the end he had given Sarah. For the millionth time,
Steve replayed the image of the rescue teams gently lifting Sarah’s limp and
bloody body from the mangled wreck of his car in the ditch. The white glare of
the halogen lamps that had been set up to illuminate the scene had burned that
last sight of his beloved Sarah indelibly into his memory.  She had been
so still, he had believed that she was dead already. Instead she had lingered,
neither alive nor dead, for all of these long years.  If David wanted to
watch him die as slowly as his twin sister had, Steve could not find it in his
heart to blame his boyhood friend.

This
is not the plan I have for your life, Steve. You still have time . Choose to
live. For Me.

           
Steve sucked in his breath, crying
out as the action caused pain to streak through his lungs.  He groaned
aloud in his agony. Where was that voice coming from?  Was he so far gone
now that he was hearing things?  And why would David say something like
"Choose life?"  Unless he could read Steve’s secret thoughts,
and was taunting him with an impossible hope?  Because, much to his
eternal shame, he did want to live!

All
these years, he had believed he was waiting for Sarah, but when he had not been
able to kill himself the night he’d learned of her death, he knew that he would
never carry out his final promise to the girl he had loved. Despite the shame
of his betrayal at the very end of her life, he had stood there by his bed,
holding the worn velvet bag that contained Sarah’s ring, and knew that he could
not do it after all. He could not bring himself to follow Sarah into death. Not
having the key to his gun box was simply one more in the long list of miserable
excuses that he had used to justify the fact that he still lived.

“It
was an accident, David,” he mumbled. “Please forgive me, David.  You know
I loved Sarah.”

Ask
Me to forgive you, Steve.

That
voice again…a wild thought struck Steve, and if he had not been so immersed in
pain he would have laughed out loud.  “Hey, Reverend Graham, I think your
god is talking to me,” he whispered. And then, “Hi God, where’ve you been?”

Waiting
for you to need me more, Steve.  What do you want most now? You can survive
and go back to the way your life has been, or you can turn it all over to me.
You can be free of the guilt. You can have peace.

Steve
licked his lips. He was hallucinating, he supposed, yet…suppose he did live through
this? Would he want to go back to the way he had been living? The emptiness and
unending guilt? He thought of Reverend Graham’s God.  In his anger he had
denied that god and chosen to carry the guilt and sadness alone. But he had
grown so tired. Deborah had shown him how lonely his life was. He knew he
wanted to live, yes, but he didn’t want to go back to THAT life…could it be so
simple? Could he choose to make Reverend Graham’s God the God of his life, too?
And be forgiven? Be free of the guilt?

He felt himself surrendering
to the possibility. 

Thunder
rumbled overhead and a sudden gust of cool wind whipped across his sun baked
body, making him shiver painfully. An afternoon thunderstorm meant that there
was little chance of being discovered by a random hiker, and it also meant that
there would be no scent left for the dogs to track. He did not think that he
could survive another night in this field. It seemed nature would soon do for
him what he had not been able to do for himself.

He
felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness but he struggled against
it.  It seemed a futile gesture, with his death almost certain now, but he
was tired. He was tired of being angry, and tired of running from this God that
had pursued him since he crawled out of the ditch over five years earlier. He
found the drinking tube again and filled his throat with the tepid water. If he
was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

“God,
if you’re there, I give up,” he rasped painfully. “I don’t care if I do live or
die anymore; I just want to be free. I give you what’s left of my life. Forgive
me. Be my God too.” He paused. Was there something else? “Oh, and amen. Thank
you, God.”

Steve
lay still, panting from the effort. He was probably insane but he didn’t care.
He knew he was glad he had finally said the words.

Thunder
cracked overhead and the first drops of rain smacked the ground around him.
Steve felt his body relax as a sense of peace and comfort suffused him. He
smiled a little as his eyes closed and he faded back into oblivion. His
struggle was over at last. What happened next was up to his God.

.

Chuck
and Pete paused for breath, glancing uneasily toward the bank of blue gray
clouds pouring out of the western sky. Thunder muttered continuously long after
the earsplitting crashes deafened them. Gouts of lightning sparked fitfully
amid the cloud mass.