Wild Within (Wild at Heart #1) (20 page)

Chapter 28

Past the lakes, the PCT climbed out of the forest toward Selden Pass. Only a few straggling, misshapen pine trees found footholds among the ubiquitous grey rock. Patches of snow flecked the landscape. Grace struggled to stay erect.

“Why don’t you let me stop and put on my snow spikes?”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“Fine. I hope you fall and knock yourself unconscious.”

“Same to you.”

She dug in her heels and proceeded carefully across the slushy ledges. When they neared the top of the pass, Breeze ordered her to stop.

“We can’t camp up there.” He squinted and pointed to the barren, dark grey ridge outlined in the moonlight. The wind whistled down from the heights and carried on it a hint of frost and subfreezing temperatures to come. He looked around. “I don’t want anyone passing us in the night, so we’ll leave the trail. Hike cross country till we get to somewhere flat.”

Grace scanned the jagged rocks strewn around them. “Where, exactly?”

“Bound to be some place.” He pushed her ahead of him. “Up there. You first.” He pointed to a grey expanse of boulders and rocks.

“I’m no mountaineer. I can’t climb up there.”

“You’ll figure out a way.”

The route was easier than it seemed from afar. But she groaned and complained and made halting progress threading her way across the rock-strewn terrain. Clefts between boulders gaped like dark, menacing mouths ready to swallow an easy meal. After fifteen minutes of climbing, she rounded a corner and emerged onto a terrace. A covering of low grass and small stones shone blue in the moonlight.

“Stop.” Breeze assessed the campground. “No one can see us here. Take off your pack. Give it to me. Where’s your sleeping bag? At the bottom?”

“I can get it out.”

“Yeah. And grab your Swiss army knife or whatever. Then we have ourselves a little problem. No way. I’m in charge of your stuff now.”

He dug through her pack, found the stuff sack with her sleeping bag, and threw it in her direction.

Grace caught it. “What about my tent?”

“You don’t need it. We’ll cowboy camp.”

“Cowboy camp? Forget it. You need me till we get to Fresno. You can’t let me freeze.” She crossed her arms.

“You’re not going to freeze.”

Grace sensed he wasn’t convinced. “I’m sleeping in my tent. You and I know it’s going down around freezing tonight. It’s already windy. If we cowboy camp, we’ll both get frostbite.”

Breeze didn’t answer.

“Okay, have it your way.” Grace unbuttoned her long-sleeved shirt.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“If you’re going to give me hypothermia, you might as well do it right. I’m sleeping in the nude.” Grace shivered in the cold breeze and pulled down her shorts.

“Put that stuff back on. You’re probably right. It’ll be warmer if we sleep in the same tent.”

He dug deeper in her pack and pulled out her tent and poles. He dropped them at her feet.

“You won’t fit.”

Breeze laughed. “You’re telling me you never shared your tent with anyone?”

“I won’t share it with you.” She kicked the tent back at him. “I’d rather freeze to death.” She stepped out of her shorts and stood naked. Goose pimples covered her body.

“Oh, what the fuck. I can’t deal with your hysterics. You’re not going anywhere anyway.” He threw her tent back at her. “Set it up over there.” He pointed to the middle of the clearing. “Make sure the entrance faces my direction.”

Breeze sat on a rock, hands on his thighs, and watched her erect the tent.

Grace cleared the area, kicking aside desiccated bear scat and removing stones. After it was assembled, she flung the sleeping bag inside.

Breeze marched over. “Now get in. And pass me your shoes.”

Grace crawled in and hurled her hiking shoes as far as she could manage. One ricocheted off a tree trunk and shot into the underbrush. The other caught on a low branch and dangled, rotating on its laces.

“Bitch.” Breeze retrieved the shoes. “That’s going to cost you half a dinner.”

Grace huddled in her sleeping bag, waiting. Breeze set up his tent a yard from hers. Then his hand thrust into her tent opening. Grace jumped.

“Dinner.” He dropped two chocolate power bars and her San Diego County Parks water bottle onto the nylon floor. The bottle rolled until it collided with her elbow. The hand disappeared. Grace zipped her tent shut. Half an hour later, Breeze returned.

“Hand over the water bottle.”

“What? You think it’s a weapon?”

“No. I’m not leaving you with any essentials. See how far you get with no water and no shoes.”

The unzipped flap let in a cool breeze. Grace slapped the empty bottle into his open hand.

Her tent shook and she peeped outside. Breeze was winding a long, thin rope in complicated loops around both their packs and the guy-lines. When he exhausted the supply of rope, he climbed inside his shelter, one end still in his hand.

She cupped her hands in the direction of his tent. “Hey, I’ve got to pee.”

“Hold it.”

“I can’t.”

“So go pee.”

“I can’t.”

“What? Afraid of bears?”

“No. You have my shoes.”

Curses floated on the night air. After a minute, she stuck her head outside and ducked as two shoes whizzed by her ears. Breeze stood a few feet away, scowling in the half-light, bundled in a balaclava and down jacket. Grace retrieved her shoes on tiptoe. He followed close behind as she walked into the shelter of a grove of trees.

“Turn your back while I go.”

“Dream on.”

Grace pulled down her shorts and squatted. Nothing happened. “I can’t do it if you’re looking.”

“Guess we’re gonna be here for a while.”

Breeze leaned against a tree and stuck his hands under his armpits. She turned away and concentrated on the moon, its craters visible as grey shadows on the luminescent surface. When she finished, they traipsed back to camp in a whistling wind. Grace crouched and began to crawl inside her tent.

“Where do you think you’re going with those shoes?”

Grace flipped over, pulled them off, and handed them to him without comment.

In a moment, his muffled voice penetrated her tent wall. “I’ve got the end of the rope around my wrist. I’m a light sleeper. If you get up, I’ll feel it. My watch is set for four thirty. That means five hours of sleep. If you’re fast.”

Grace struggled to keep her eyes open. But not even the rocks digging into her back and hips could keep her weary body from shutting down. In less than a minute, she was asleep.

She dreamed a distorted mixture of events. At the end, Stoli’s body floated face up in the current of a river. Grace edged closer. Stoli tried to tell her something. Just as she thought she understood, a noise startled her awake.

The yellow ceiling of her tent shook. A great muzzle pressed itself against the wall.

Bear.

Grace lay still, hoping the enormous creature would lose interest.

Go away. Please go away.

After less than a minute of sniffing, the bear lumbered off among the rocks.

Grace listened for its return.

Nothing.

Still not quite awake, she unzipped her tent flap and ran her hand along the ground, searching for her shoes.

Where’d they go?

She tried to remember what she’d done with them. Then awareness of the past hours flooded her thoughts. Her watch showed over an hour before Breeze’s alarm went off.

I might be his prisoner, but there’s one thing he doesn’t know.

She reached into her sleeping bag, drew forth the stuff sack, and shook it. Out plopped her yellow camp shoes.

Celine, thank you.

“One day out there I’m sure you’ll appreciate my advice,” Celine had said when she added the foam clogs to Grace’s enormous pile at the REI checkout counter. “Kenji told me these things can come in handy. And, heck, they don’t weigh much.”

You were absolutely right.
Grace slipped the yellow shoes on her feet.
These come in very handy.

Chapter 29

The moon hung lower in the early morning sky. But it still cast pale shadows as Grace sneaked out of her tent, careful not to disturb the bear rope on the guy-lines. In the dim light, the sight of Breeze’s tent and pack sent shivers up her spine.

She held her breath and slinked across the grass. When she reached the edge of their campsite, she stared at the rocky descent that lay between her and the trail and winced.

How can I make it down there without starting an avalanche?

She tread from one rock to another and began threading her way down the slope. She had only traversed a few yards before a loose stone undermined her balance. Her hands clutched a tree branch, but not before rocks clattered down the incline, making a roar she thought would be heard for miles.

Her heart thundered in her ears.

Run for it? Wait?

Run, she decided, and stepped onto another loose rock. This time she fell, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Stars stared down at her through branches of a windblown fir.

About to die. Like my first day in the desert. When Lone Star found me.

She closed her eyes and waited for Breeze.

But nothing stirred.

She rose and looked around. No one.

She tried her camp shoes on the side of the nearest boulder.

Maybe if I climb?

Her fingers searched for a crevice as her shoes pressed into the stone. She clambered up and slid across the top on her behind. On the other side, she hopped lightly to the ground. At the next huge rock, she repeated the procedure. Progress was slower, but quiet.

When she’d covered half the distance back to the trail, she judged she was out of earshot and began to jog. Her strides sent tiny rocks showering in all directions.

I’ve already wasted enough time.

The trail to Selden Pass proved less easy to find than she anticipated. Moonlight made judging distances difficult. False trails petered out and left her more disoriented than before. Finally, she glimpsed the unmistakable sandy thread of the PCT snaking between the rocks like an iridescent python.

On the trail she broke into a run. She hammered up the ascent to the top of Selden Pass. Her ribs heaved and thighs protested. She ignored them.

He’s bigger, stronger, and faster. What was it on the map? Five miles of mixed terrain between me and VVR? I’ll try and get past the meadow. If he catches up with me in the woods after that, maybe I’ll hear him coming and can hide.

On the north side of the pass, the trail fell toward Marie Lake’s many rocky islands. Here, her run turned into a gravity-assisted sprint. Without a pack, she felt light and free and flew in gigantic strides. On snowy patches, she slid and swerved on the soles of her camp shoes like a professional skier, arms outstretched for balance, fueled by the adrenaline of panic.

At the edge of the lake, she scooped handfuls of the dark water into her parched mouth, ignoring images of squirming microbes that floated through her mind.

Intestinal upset’s the least of my worries.

Ten minutes before Breeze’s alarm went off, she reached the meadow.

Grace felt like an exposed antelope in a field of crouching tigers in the grassland. Her grey shirt and tan pants shone as though made of reflectors. She longed for camouflage gear. She imagined Breeze behind trunks and boulders, and her muscles tapped into a secret store of energy she hadn’t known she possessed.

The route crossed a bridge. Then the trail entered a lodgepole forest. In a stillness broken only by the rustling of needles in the wind, she heaved a sigh. Little light filtered through the boughs, making the path indistinct. She looked at her watch.

Breeze must be awake. If he catches up with me here, at least I have a place to hide.

Fallen needles muffled her footsteps. She strained her ears for the sound of anyone approaching, but only the twitter of early rising birds and the whoop of an owl accompanied her.

He can’t get here that quickly anyway.

The trail emerged at Bear Creek. She stepped in without hesitation. Frigid water submerged her leg to mid-calf. The current pulled, and she wished she’d chosen a stick before plunging in.

I can’t fall. I won’t.

She picked her way carefully across, leaning upstream to compensate for the relentless flow. Her camp shoes slid on slimy stones and shifting sand. She concentrated on the opposite bank until she stepped safely onto the shore.

An unmarked junction faced her. An uphill route followed a branch of the creek. The other path sloped gently down the canyon.

Which way’s the PCT?

Panic rose in her chest.

VVR’s lower than Selden Pass. I haven’t lost much altitude so far. So it must be downhill.

She crossed her fingers and jogged through the dark woods, pushing out of her mind the thought that the PCT often went up before it went down.

Forty-five minutes later, a suffusion of brilliant blue, yellow, and orange lit the sky in the east as the sun pushed away the curtain of night. Grace slogged up the winding trail toward the crest of Bear Ridge. Lake Edison and VVR lay at the bottom of a long set of switchbacks beyond the crest.

Almost three hours since I left.

Her feet dragged as she plodded along the trail that wound among the ubiquitous grey boulders. Her stomach had long forgotten the two power bars from the night before. Increasingly demanding thoughts of food pestered her.

I wish I had a chocolate bar with nuts and raisins. That last cup at Kennedy Meadows, half coffee, half cream, and three teaspoons of sugar. The pepperoni and mushroom pizza Lone Star and I shared, shining with oil and extra cheese that stretched into thin strings when I pulled out a slice.

Ow.

A misstep shot pain up her leg, interrupting her reverie. The exertion of the climb sliced into her calves and thighs. She felt faint. Her knees shook.

He can’t be far behind me now.

But the image of Breeze didn’t prompt the adrenaline rush it had before. She recommenced the ascent with weary steps. Her eyes focused only on the next turn in the trail.

Her dragging foot caught on a rock. She tumbled, and her left knee collided with a stone on the way to the ground. When she flexed the limb, strong waves of nausea accompanied the pain. She sat in the dirt, leg stretched before her, waiting for the queasiness to subside.

I’m almost at the top. After that it’s all downhill to VVR. I have to keep going.

But her body fought the thought.

Then a flash of light glinted through the trees below. She sprang to her feet, the pain forgotten. Her eyes squinted.

What was that?

She saw it again.

Oh my god.

Something dangling from Breeze’s belt reflected the early morning light. His knife.