The Spirit Survives (5 page)

I began to doubt my ability to survive.

Chapter 9

Bo ran for his life. He didn’t think of Veronika’s dead body lying behind him. He didn’t think of Cherokee running after the man. His only thought was,
I’ve got to save my ass!

He was able to run about two-hundred feet away as the twister passed over the spot where the dead girl lay in a pool of blood. He dived to the ground, covered his head and drew into a fetal position as the world exploded around him. Rocks and soil hit his body. It felt as if someone were shooting him with buckshot.
 

As rapidly as it had begun, the ground stopped shaking as the tornado moved past him and up the mountain. It appeared to be following the same path that Cherokee and the stranger had taken. Bo leapt to his feet to check for injuries. He was bleeding in several places where the flying dirt and rocks had struck him. The most damage was on his back and buttocks. Being curled up in a fetal position had protected his head. Other than hurting, his arms and legs were functional. Apparently, he had no broken bones. His Colt .45 was about five feet from him. He walked over, picked it up and put it in his belt. He could still hear a distant roar, but the danger had passed. He walked back to the area where Veronika’s body had been; it had vanished. The twister took it away to lord knows where. Bo was hoping that it had been ripped into pieces. The path where Cherokee had run had also disappeared. There was nothing left but a massive pile of rocks. Maybe the tornado had taken care of his problem with Cherokee knowing too much. He hoped that the man who had interrupted his hit was also dead.
 

Bo couldn’t take the chance that the man had survived. He had to do everything he could to confirm that the guy was dead. In the unlikely event that the man survived, his life would be worthless. He didn’t give a shit about Cherokee, but the witness had to be silenced, if not by the tornado, then by Bo Lopez. Bo stopped for a moment and listened. Everything was eerily quiet. The tornado had hushed every living thing on that part of the mountain. The silence sent chills up his spine. Bo made his way back to his rented SUV. The only damage he noticed was a cracked window on the driver’s side. He unlocked the vehicle, got in and started the SUV. He decided that he ought to find a place to get cleaned up and change clothes. He needed time to plan what to do next.

He put his vehicle in gear, backed out, and started down the winding mountain road. After about half a mile he saw a small parking area with a car parked. The black Lexus was left beside a sign that read, “Hiking Trails”. The automobile had not been there when he and Cherokee had passed the area earlier. There certainly was a probability that the Lexus belonged to the man he was worried about.
 

Bo was a professional, he took nothing for granted. He pulled in and parked beside the car. He attempted to open the door, but it was locked. Bo picked up a rock, walked to the driver’s side and busted the window. He banged out the remaining glass and reached through the window to open the glove compartment. He didn’t open the door out of fear of setting off an alarm. Nearly everyone stored their registration and insurance cards in the glove compartment. He grasped the warranty book and pulled it out. The insurance card was encased in plastic inside the book. Bo took it out and threw the book on the seat. The owner’s name was Ben Harris. The card listed a Chicago address. He put the card in his pocket and rummaged through the glove compartment and found a thick envelope. The return address on the envelope was Allied Moving and Storage.
 

He took out the paperwork and looked at it. The documents were addressed to Ben Harris and Leah Hamilton. They were evidently in the process of moving from Chicago to Green Bay. The contact phone number and address were listed as the Residence Inn in Green Bay. Bo folded the sheet and inserted it in his pocket. There was nothing else of interest in the glove department.
 

He started to leave when he noticed a camera on the seat on the passenger side beside the warranty book. He picked up the camera, turned it on, and punched the button to view the pictures on the memory stick. The first picture was of a very sexy woman. She was of medium height, a brunette with a dazzling smile and large brown eyes. Bo was a master of guessing breasts size and she had to be at least a 34c.
The rest of her
body compliments those knockers very well
, he thought.
This must be Leah.
 

The next picture was of a birthday cake. Bo’s eyes widened as he looked at the third picture. He had hit pay dirt. It was the man who had witnessed the murder, Ben Harris.
 

Bo smiled. Now he had something to work with. He took the camera, got back into his SUV and left to find an out-of-the-way motel to get cleaned up. Then he would start his search for Ben Harris.

Chapter 10

Leah glanced around and saw that there was nothing disrupted at the entrance of Lookout Mountain. It was a cloudy day with a nice breeze. There were no indications that a tornado had touched down. A convenience store was located to her left with several cars in the parking lot. Ben’s car wasn’t among them. Looking up the mountain, she saw lush trees still green in the heart of summer. In another month, these trees would be a beautiful golden brown. Leah wished that she and Ben were there together to savor the beauty. Both of them loved the outdoors and exploring new places. Her mind reverted to reality when a car’s horn honked behind her. She didn’t realize that she had stopped and was blocking traffic. Leah turned into the convenience store parking lot and sat there for a moment.

The Tomahawk police department had told her that they had already dispatched a search party to look for survivors on Lookout Mountain, she decided to drive up the mountain in hopes of locating the search party. She could find out directly from them if Ben had been spotted.
 

Leah left the parking lot, turned left, and began driving up the mountain road. She had driven less than a mile when she saw a state highway patrol car parked alongside a black Lexus. She recognized Ben’s Lexus immediately. Leah pulled in beside the patrol car and got out. A patrolman was inspecting the car and writing something on a pad.

Leah rushed up to him and yelled, “Sir, that’s my boyfriend’s car. Where is he?”

The patrolman turned to face her. He looked surprised at her panicked approach. He said, “Calm down. Who are you?”

“Leah Hamilton,” she responded in a quieter voice. “My boyfriend, Ben Harris, came here for a day of hiking. I heard about the tornado touching down in the area and drove from Green Bay to see if he’s okay. I couldn’t reach his cell phone.”

“Ms. Hamilton, the search party called me when they discovered this car. You see the driver’s side window has been busted out. It appears to be a robbery. We haven’t found the owner. The search party is still looking farther up the mountain. At this point, they’ve found no one.”
 

“Well, the owner of the Lexus is Ben Harris. He and I presently live in Green Bay. We’re in the process of moving there from Chicago. What do you think happened to Ben?” She reached for the handle to open the car door.

The patrolman stopped her, “Don’t touch the car. It has to be dusted for fingerprints. Did he carry anything of value in it?”

She gestured toward the car. “As far as I know there was nothing of value in there.”
 

“I’ve called for a tow truck. We need to get this to the police lot and check it for evidence. Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.

 
“No,” Leah replied. “What do I have to do next to find out what happened to Ben?”

“Just go to a local motel and wait there for information, he said, “You’ll just hinder the investigation and the search party if you stay here.”
 

Leah gave the patrolman her cell phone number and her office number at Shopko. He promised to call her as soon as any information was available.
 

Leah reluctantly left the scene. Ben had told her that he had made reservations at Whispering Winds Cottage on Lake Nokomis in Tomahawk, Wisconsin. She punched in 411 on her cell for phone information. The operator gave her the number for Whispering Winds Cottage and dialed the number.
 

A deep resonate voice answered, “This is Daryl Helmsly, may I help you?”

 
“My name is Leah Hamilton. I need to know if a Ben Harris checked into one of your cabins?”
 

“Let me check,” he answered and a short silence followed. “He checked in on the evening of August 17
^th
”
^.
Mr. Harris left on the 18
^th
to go to Lookout Mountain. That morning he stopped by the office and asked for directions.”
 

Leah told him that Ben was missing and his car had been burglarized. She gave him her cell number in case he heard anything and told him to keep Ben’s belongings in the cabin, and that she would stop by later when she found Ben. Mr. Helmsly agreed and they hung up.

Leah decided to drive to Tomahawk and get a motel room to wait for any word about Ben. She called her office and told Brenda not to expect her back until Ben was located. With tears of worry in her eyes, she began her drive to Tomahawk.

Chapter 11

Ignoring my apprehension about the snake, the dying man in front of me, and the injured wolf, my exhaustion overwhelmed, and I dozed off.

A whimpering noise woke me. I looked at my watch, busted from when I dove in the cave, as if it could tell me the time. Light filtering in through the hole above me suggested that I had been out for at least six or seven hours. The sun had already arisen to greet my second day in the cave.

For the first time, there was sufficient light for me to clearly see my surroundings. The tornado had completely sealed the entrance to the cave. The only hint of an entrance that remained was the injured Cherokee. About ten feet to the right of his body was a slight indentation where the wolf lay, apparently asleep.
 

The interior of the cave was about thirty feet long and maybe fifty feet wide. On the far end, opposite the former entrance, was a large block of stone, full of a number of stalagmites. Loose stones and blocks of rocks littered the floor. Behind me was a pile of rocks where the snake had gone. The walls were made by stalagmite material with a gray base. Crystals of calcium carbonate reflected the light. Under other circumstances, I would have thought my cave was beautiful.

I was sitting about ten feet in front of a wall of sheer rock. To my right were countless other piles of rocks and boulders.
Lord knows what’s hiding behind them
. A small puddle of water filled a crevice directly below the hole in the ceiling. It must have rained sometime in the last couple of days.
At least rainwater can come in,
I
thought
.
The hole above me was
my only connection to the outside world. Even now, in the middle of August, the cave was cool and damp.

I heard the whimper again. I glanced over at Cherokee’s body, and saw his left hand move. I grabbed one of the bottles of water and quietly crawled to him, trying not to wake the wolf. I monitored the man’s pulse; it was still very weak. I lifted his head and, to my surprise, his right eye was open. His left eye was still bulging from his socket and contained a blank stare.
 

The good eye focused on me. He appeared to try to form words, but nothing came out but another whimper. With his ankle lodged between the boulders, I couldn’t turn him over. I raised his head and turned it to the side to attempt to give him some water. I cupped my left hand around the edge of his mouth and poured a small amount of water on his lips. A gurgling sound signaled that he was trying to swallow.
This isn’t going to work,
I thought
.
His only chance was for a rescue party to get here quickly; otherwise, he was a dead man. I gently laid his head back down as the good eye closed.
He’s not long for this world.

I crawled back to my spot that had now become my home base. My stomach growled. I realized that I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday. I had to conserve food and water in the event that I had to stay in the cave for an extended period of time, so I decided to have half a can of the sardines and a couple of crackers. I opened the sardine can and slowly ate three sardines. I opened the crackers and consumed two of them and took three swallows of water. This didn’t exactly compare with the lobster dinner that Leah and I enjoyed the evening that I left Green Bay.

I bent the lid back over the sardine can and placed it back with my inventory. The smell of the sardines permeated the air. A whine broke the silence. I glanced over and the wolf was staring at me. The smell of the sardines must have awakened him. I realized that he was as hungry as I was. Hunger can overcome pain and I knew that he needed food. Human flesh was not out of the question for his meal. I decided to give him something to calm him down. I reached for the sardine can, grasped it and crawled again to Cherokee’s body. I took the remainder of the sardines and tossed them one at a time to the wolf. He slobbered as he gobbled them down. I drank the rest of the sardine juice from the can and went back to my spot. I carefully placed the empty can back with my inventory. It might be useful later.