Nowhere Wild (21 page)

The world bounced up and down. Left, then right. Something wrapped around Izzy's forehead.

“Jake?”

“He's right behind us.”

“Who are you?” The contents of Izzy's stomach gurgled and threatened to erupt.

“I'm Eddie.”

“Where's Jake?”

“He's coming. We're taking you home.”

“I want to see Jake!” Izzy threw her left elbow backward to try to break the man's hold on her. He stopped walking and adjusted his grip on her, turning so she could see back up the road. Two figures walked side by side in the distance. One waved.

Jake!

“See. You're safe.”

Izzy coughed and tasted blood and dirt. She raised her hand to her lips. Her face felt taut and swollen, her eyes heavy.

“Where's Rick?”

“He can't hurt you any more, hon. You're safe now,” Eddie said as he resumed walking.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To our camp. Then to Thompson. We'll have you home by nightfall. She's going to be so happy.”

“She?”

“Angie. Your sister. She's been looking everywhere for you. She never stopped.”

Eddie picked up his pace.

Her vision began to bounce. Her head spun.

“
Angie's alive?
”
Rick hadn't killed Angie
?
How
?
Why
?

It didn't matter. Angie was
alive
. That was all that mattered.

“Yes. You rest now, okay? You're going home.”

The bouncing faded into the background. Her vision narrowed. A single word echoed through her mind as the blackness settled in.

Home
. She could finally stop running. Her sister was alive. Rick was dead. She and Jake were safe. The cold left her bones, and warmth wrapped her chest. She slept.

This is a work of fiction, and while the city of Thompson is real, the village of Laroque has been pulled out of the ether. Any resemblance to other villages in the area is completely coincidental and unintentional. Description of Jake's route and the land of the North is based on my best research efforts from afar. I can only hope to have come close to describing one of the wildest places left on Earth and interweaving what I think is a gripping story. I would enjoy hearing from local residents and experts on where I went wrong and where I was right.

The first draft of this book, completed in 2008, exceeded 139,000 words. Fewer than 10,000 of those original words remain, and most of those are now in a different order. While I did write the words on my own, the difference between the length of that version and what you have just read, and the quality of that version and what you have just read, is a tribute to the many people involved in this journey to publication.

I subjected far too many of my friends and relatives to the trials of reading that first draft. To those who endured what must have been a painful read, I am truly grateful. Without your feedback, I never would have continued pursuing my dream. To those readers, including Mike Barsoski (friend and fellow Canuck), Eric Briggs (my hunting and parenting consultant), Morgan Briggs (my YA reader and someone I am sure will have far more writing success than I ever will), Marcia Briggs (my mother-in-law and second hunting advisor), Carolyn Coene (my aunt who never says good-bye without a tear in her eye), and Teri Towne (fellow author and office distraction), I thank you so much for your help.

For Benjamin Newland, with whom I formed a two-person critique group, I hope to someday read your work again. Thanks for helping me to stay enthusiastic about writing during the tough times. Who knew priests could be so damn cool?

Jason Black did a wonderful job of steering me through the earliest days of editing. His services (and friendship) proved invaluable in getting to the meat of the story and working through the hitches in the plot. Had it not been for his guidance and assistance, I most certainly would still be buried on the slush pile somewhere.

For my Aunt Anne Stratton, who snapped the photo that adorned my early website's version of the book, thank you for setting the tone of the book through that image. It let my mind settle into the story each time I looked at it.

I also want to thank Jerome Pettys for helping to do the original cover art and website image design, and Jen Sanders, who did my headshots—you both made me look far better than I appear in the mirror.

Cherie Dimaline also gets credit for advising me on First Nations life, history, and beliefs. I'm so thankful you were able to set me straight where it mattered.

Greg Tabor did a wonderful job with the cover for the first edition. Hopefully it helped you to take a chance on a writer you've never heard of.

Now I need to thank two very special people who changed the course of my life.

First, Mrs. Ruth Ann Jensen, who was my teacher in seventh grade and my English teacher in eighth and twelfth grades. I would not have my love for writing and creating stories had you not encouraged my talents at an early age. I will never forget that “being outspoken isn't always a bad thing.”

Second, Pam Binder, president of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association. Had it not been for her pulling me aside when I was at the lowest of my low points after getting rejected by agents at my first PNWA conference in 2009, I would never have continued to write, and I never would have made the hard decision to cut this book in half
and start over. Always with a smile on her face and an extraordinary ability to listen, even in the busiest of times, Pam pushed me to be a professional and never let me doubt my ability to persevere.

Of course, any writer who gets this far must have a fantastic team on the business and editing side as well. My agent, Sally Harding, always carries a velvet hammer, and uses it often to get me doing what I need to be doing. She took a chance on a manuscript that needed “a lot” of work because she thought I had the “chops” for telling stories. I can only hope I have proved her right. Along with Sally, I must credit her crack team at the Cooke Agency for keeping things going, especially Rachel Letofsky, who helps with just about everything, from paperwork to story ideas, and always with a smile and an infectious laugh.

Over at HarperCollins Canada, Hadley Dyer probably had no idea what she was getting herself into when she bought this book. But she stuck with me from one personal disaster to another, and helped me to learn about the ropes I didn't even know existed. She was right when she said there would be days when I would curse her name after getting another round of edits back. But she was almost always correct in her editing suggestions, and the story is so much better because of her efforts and patience. Maria Golikova and her team got the book ready for production, and made it shine.

Finally, I need to say thank you to my direct family: my mother, Simone, who taught me there was little better in the world than sitting down on a cold winter day with a good book, and my father, Tony, who taught me that nothing good ever comes easy. I hope I have done it right.

For my son, Reece, and my daughter, Lorelai, thank you for putting up with me every time I disappeared into my office to write. You bring such joy to my life that I miss you even when we're just one room apart.

And to Lisa, my wife and partner in life, thank you so much for being there through all of this. You listened to me go on about stories, read who-knows-how-many drafts, and kept the fire going even when winter never seemed to end. It's been a long journey to get here, and I'm so glad we get to travel this road together. Luv u.

NOWHERE WILD
. Copyright © 2015 by Joseph Beernink. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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