Timberline Trail (26 page)

Suddenly he cast Tia an alarmed glance. “Uh oh, take a look!”
The gas tank registered nearly empty, the fuel indicator flashing in warning.

Jon battled through the rough terrain
, the rear chains clanging wildly. Tia couldn’t tear her eyes from the gas gauge as she helplessly watched the indicator needle drop way too rapidly. This was obviously not a gas-efficient vehicle.

Tia suddenly flinched. “They’re
right behind us Jon; I caught the glint of their truck’s fender just around the bend back there. Can’t you drive any faster?” she cried.

“I’m trying,” Jon gritted, the car swerving wic
kedly to the left as he took the next curve way too fast.

“We’ve got to intersect the main highway
soon,” shouted Tia, the needle standing directly on E as the fuel gauge symbol flashed.

“There they are again!” exclaimed
Tia, watching her side mirror. Sure enough, the Nissan ate up the road behind them. A whistling shot zinged past her open window while another twanged off the sideboard of the 4x4. The Pathfinder veered suddenly, avoiding a broken tree limb, and seemed to drop back for a moment before recklessly accelerating to within twenty feet of the Toyota and sending off a volley of shots.

“They’re aiming for the tires,” cried Jon, swerving as much as the narrow logging road would
allow.

“I can’t believe they caught up with us so fast,” screamed Tia
, grabbing up the heavy rifle. It was time for her to take action or they’d certainly be killed.

She rolled down her window and resting her for
earms upon the sill, waited for Jon to take the next curve so she could get a clearer shot. The Cruiser veered right and Tia pulled the trigger, the recoil from the heavy rifle propelling her against Jon who quickly set her upright and battled the careening vehicle. The glass from the Nissan’s passenger window shattered and Tia swore she heard a yelp of pain.

“That’s it girl!” screamed Jon
, yanking the steering wheel hard as he floored the accelerator.

The Land Cruiser lurched right again so that Tia was thrown against the opposite door away from Jon, but she resolutely
picked herself up and positioned herself once again at the open window. Gun shots reverberated within the car and Tia felt the breath of a bullet zing right past her cheek.

Suddenly a loud crash accompanied by a hiss and violent jerk indicated one of RK’s bullets had finall
y found their intended mark. One of the rear chains unraveled behind the Land Cruiser with a horrific sound and the heavy vehicle swerved as Jon fought for control.

Whether he’
d actually wanted the 4x4 to head between the two huge pines, Tia would never know, but suddenly the Land Cruiser plunged down a steep embankment and zoomed past young replanted trees. Tia fought a rising scream as the truck streaked past huge pines and cottonwoods, barely missing them in its frenzied descent. Jon desperately fought the vehicle, trying to fend off disaster until the 4x4 suddenly hit the flat road with a bone-shattering thud and overturned twice.

Tia screamed as the windshield shattered and she was smacked against the dash before slamming into the passenger door.
Amazingly it flung open, depositing her and Jon’s backpack upon a heap of snow, as the 4x4 skidded on its side another forty feet down the road before coming up hard against a pile of snow-encrusted logs waiting to be hauled to the lumber mill.

Tia rolled from the snow and stumbled up the road. “Jon!” she screamed.

The car’s engine began to smoke, a telltale flicker of orange licking up
ward from the truck’s hood. It was about to explode!

“Jon,” she shouted
again, racing against time. Black smoke belched upward from the Land Cruiser as she hopped up and peered through the open door.

Jon lay
wedged against the driver’s door, his arm hanging crookedly over the steering wheel. A large gash on his forehead dripped crimson onto his blue parka. Later Tia was never to know where that sudden superhuman surge of strength came from, but she managed to haul him up and out, dragging the man she loved away from the smoking vehicle as she tried to place as much distance between him and the 4x4 as possible. A massive explosion rocked the cold afternoon air and Tia was thrown to the ground on top of Jon.

She glanced over her shoulder and witnessed the e
ntire roof of the vehicle erupt into flames, only now realizing how close it had been. Jon groaned underneath her and she heaved and pulled his heavy body off the road and behind a shielding pile of stripped logs. The gash over his eye bled profusely as she searched for a tissue in her parka pocket to staunch the wound.

A shout in French echoed above the road and Tia ducked.
Mike Puchalet, rifle in hand, appeared on the embankment above the road and gesticulated wildly at the fiery inferno that had once been a car. It came with a shock that Tia realized they once again merged with the main Timberline Trail logging road heading back toward Bear Lake.

Jon stirred and grasped his side,
groaning as if one or more of his ribs had been broken.

“Tia?” he grunted
tentatively.

“Shh!” she warned
, as Steve joined the Frenchman and slid down the embankment. Within minutes they’d both realize Jon and Tia hadn’t been in the 4x4 and the survivors would be caught like sitting ducks.

Jon tried to sit up, but jerked, pain darkening his blood-stained face.
“The rifle?” he gasped.

“In the car.”
Heavy black smoke billowed skyward and Jon twisted his head. Mike Puchalet edged closer to the burning vehicle and shouted something toward the embankment.

RK stood rigidly in the hi
p-deep snow and slowly scanned the road.

Tia hissed.
“I’m going to try and lead them away from you. Hunker down here and keep quiet. I’ll head cross-country toward the main road.”

“No!” gritted Jon between clenched teeth.

“I have to!”

Jon shook his dark head furiously, unwilling to listen as T
ia rose. Tia would have made it without being seen except for a bizarre fluke. The forgotten flare in Jon’s backpack suddenly exploded in a brilliant flash, sailing upward through the shattered passenger window, leaving a trail of black smoke. It must have shot fifty meters into the air, alerting anyone on Highway 7 to their whereabouts. Mike Puchalet’s attention was diverted and he let out a swift shout upon observing Tia ducking between the pines.

“Stop!” sho
uted the Canadian, slapping his rifle to his shoulder and taking dead aim at her bolting form.

“No!” Steve screamed
, as Tia leaped into the underbrush.

He shoved Mike brutally, causing him to misfire.
Tia, running for her dear life between the low branches of the pine trees, heard the crack of the high-powered hunting rifle as it blasted harmlessly into the trees. RK lunged down the hill after his sister, hurtling past the smoking 4x4 as he dove into the trees, trying to cut Tia off.

More shouting and a tremendous burst of
French followed and Tia would’ve been amazed to witness what happened next. As Mike sighted her again, Steve swung hard with the butt of his rifle. The blunt end struck home, but not before Mike twisted and fired, the shot knocking Steve off his feet. The bloody French-Canadian, teetering from a serious concussion, approached the prostrate fake-advertiser who managed to swing his rifle up just in time. Steve’s direct blast to the chest caused the Canadian to lift several feet in the air before landing lifelessly onto the snow below.

But Tia was to learn all about that later.
Now she simply tried to find the roughest and most difficult path to escape. The whistle and twang of a bullet embedding itself in skinny pine to her right caused her to jerk and lunge to the left, zigzagging through the heavy foliage. Heavy footsteps crashed and then paused. Tia glanced over her shoulder, observing her hatless brother leaned against the rough bark of a white spruce, his semi-bald head gleaming in the mid-day sun. He clutched one of her father’s favorite hunting rifles which previously had been lodged in the gun cabinet inside her cabin.

“Tia!” he shouted.
“There’s been a terrible misunderstanding and we need to get together and talk.”

“I bet we d
o!” bellowed Tia, and she quickly ducked between the trees, once again discerning his heavy-footed pursuit. Tia remained thankful she trained every morning, running through the dappled light of the woods near her house. She remembered her brother once had been a marathoner and still jogged every morning in Las Vegas. She could only hope the cold, his cumbersome parka, and the restrictive rifle slung over his shoulder would slow him down.

A tremendous throbbing noise filled the afternoon air and Tia
cocked her head toward the noise. It was the unmistakable whir of a helicopter.

The air seemed to pulsate and vibrate, but while Tia could hear the helicopte
r, she couldn’t place it because her vision was obscured by the denseness of the trees. Her heart rejoiced that the police and the region’s one and only helicopter were on their trail. Her brother must have realized his peril because instantly another bullet whizzed past, ricocheting against the protruding stones peeking at her feet.

Tia whirled, once again seeking
the cloaking darkness of the forest, the roar of the helicopter muffled by the denseness of the trees. The metal bird seemed to move away from her as it searched the underbrush for them. Tia desperately wished she could dash into the open to flag down the helicopter, but if her brother glimpsed her he’d certainly open fire, having nothing to lose now.

Tia recall
ed, as she sprinted recklessly through the thick forest, that on the right hand side of the main logging road stood a small lake referred to by everyone in the area as Empress Lake. It was supposedly dubbed that fifty years ago after the Mayor’s five-year old daughter gazed at the lake declaring she was Empress of the forest and the lake and the name had stuck. The small lake housed several rough huts occasionally visited by hikers who used the large pond as a midway point on their way to Crane Lake. It also boasted a boat dock enabling many of the town’s fishermen to enjoy the peace and tranquility of the lake and its resident wildlife.

Tia could only pray
she headed in the right direction, being disoriented by the heavy canopy of pine and spruce darkening her path. She picked up her pace, stretching her long lean legs to lope like a cross country skier through the often hip-deep snow. A foraging ground squirrel immediately whirled and ducked into its burrow as Tia ran past. Less than a minute later, the high piercing whistle of a marmot shrieked a warning to its mate from a small outcropping of rock.

Her blue park
a provided too fine a target and Tia heard a shrill airborne whistle before recoiling at the sharp pain spreading through her left hip. She spun helplessly, falling into the snow bank directly before her. Tia gasped in intense pain as a thousand needle points sent a firebrand of agony down to her very toes. She rolled before rising shakily to her knees, crimson droplets staining the pristine snow. Tia grabbed her scarf from her neck and shoved it against her hip under her oversized ski pants, vowing not to die in the snow like a dog, killed by her own brother.

She
willed herself to stand, realizing her bright blue parka made her an unmistakable target. Underneath the jacket she still wore Ben’s flannel shirt and shrugged off the heavy coat, discarding it upon the snow before darting left to take shelter behind a large blue spruce. Not daring to stop to examine the wound, Tia continued her desperate plunge into the forest, heading toward Empress Lake.

The helicopter had moved away and Tia
swore she heard rough voices in the distance but didn’t stop to find out who it was. Her only desire was to escape the strong fresh legs pursuing her so relentlessly.

Tia
nearly ran into the lake, managing to slide to a stop at the spot where its bright blue waters lapped gently against the shore’s pebbled coastline. The snow had already melted away from the narrow strip of beach and it felt almost warm in the bright sunlight. Tia searched wildly for the trio of huts she knew hugged the east side of the lake and spotted them directly across from her. The easiest way to reach them would be to follow the small lake’s shoreline, but she would be a clear and open target for her brother. Instead she chose to sink back into the forest and keep to the trees.

Every so often Tia ran across a rough hewn picnic t
able, whose presence at the lake was compliments of the city of Timberline. At the third picnic site she paused for breath, leaning against the faded pine table as she struggled to catch her breath. She listened intently for several moments, but all remained silent except for the hoarse cry of a fish hawk. Perhaps she’d lost him! She slowed her pace, staggering more and more as weakness threatened to overwhelm her. Tia swore she heard her name at least once, but she couldn’t tell if the frantic cry was an illusion or a reality.

Suddenly the outline of the first hut loomed before her, and just beyond it, the primitive A-f
ramed structure that denoted the picnic spot’s drop-pit toilets. Her hand brushed her leg and Tia stared blankly at the red blood staining her fingers. If only the police would spot her brother and end this nightmare! Tia lurched toward the outhouse and as she rounded its rough side, RK’s arm shot upward, his crooked elbow catching her directly upon the chin and causing her to tumble to the muddy ground.