The following two days—clear,
sunny ones, not good for traveling when one is intent on avoiding the leaving
of any tracks in newly-fallen snow—passed in relative tranquility, Einar and
Kilgore avoiding any major conflicts, if only because the tracker had at some
point determined not to start such. He
still believed—believed it all the more firmly, actually, having observed
things at the cabin for several days—that the entire family needed to come down
and spend some time at the house he now shared with Susan, that, or his hilltop
log home in Arizona. Either location would
do fairly well to provide the security the little family, and especially its
head, would need to find the arrangement an acceptable one, and not only would Einar’s
closer proximity to the goings on in the valley allow the two of them to
discuss plans and strategies for the months to come, it would probably save his
life. Not that he’d asked for it to be
saved. Probably didn’t even fully
recognize the danger, or if he did, considered it a challenge which he must, alone
and unaided, face and find a way to overcome.
Was the way the man operated, a real benefit most times, but now…well,
they’d all be better off down there at the house with Susan for the remainder
of the winter.
Wished there was some way to
convince him of that—and to convince Liz, for without both their consent,
nothing was happening—but he could think of no argument which he had not yet
tried, so let the subject go for the time, determined to find a time, and a
way, to bring it up again before he had to leave. Whenever that might be. So far, they seemed quite thoroughly stuck in
a pattern of crisp, blue skies, windless days and crackling cold nights, as
temperatures plunged far below zero. Something
of a strange pattern for those mountains, which gave him hope of predicting
when it might break. Einar, when asked,
had little more idea than the tracker about what they might expect of the
weather, so Kilgore settled in for a long wait.
Not a bad place to be, not bad at all, and though he missed his bride,
he knew Susan would be alright without him for a time, would worry some, as was
her way, about how he might be faring up in the snow-locked high country, but
as always, had plenty to keep her busy until his return.
On the morning of his third day
with the little tribe in the basin, Kilgore’s tranquility—and that of everyone
else in the cabin—was shattered by the distant but quickly approaching drone of
a small plane. Liz was sitting on the
bed feeding Will, Kilgore and Juni working together on the elk bone atlatl
darts Einar had previously demonstrated to the reporter—she had shown the
tracker her technique and he, experienced with flint knapping but not with the
working of bone, finding the process fascinating—and Einar out in the woodshed
when the hum first became audible, he hearing it long before the others and
rushing to get inside and close down the stove.
Liz stared at him as if he’d
gone mad, scrambling in and closing the stove vent, pulling half burnt logs from
its interior and rolling them on the dirt of the floor, but soon she heard it
as well, all of them tilting heads and straining ears to gain as much information
as possible about the intruder, while Einar involuntarily and quite without noticing
pressed himself into the ground beside the water barrel.
While none of them could see
the plane they could hear it clearly enough to be sure beyond a doubt that it
was not the one belonging to Kilgore’s friend Roger Kiesl, which meant that its
presence posed them all an immediate and rather severe danger. Silent while the aircraft circled the area,
listening, the little group stared at the ceiling or at the ground, no one
daring so much as to speak until the faint remnants of its humming presence had
thoroughly and completely faded into the distance, over the ridge. Juni was the first to speak.
“It’s here for me, isn’t it?”
Einar said nothing, but
Kilgore nodded. “Probably. Sounded like the search was really about to
go active, starting in the air and then maybe on the ground if they got any
leads. Maybe that’ll be the extent of
it, right here. Maybe they’ll…”
He was interrupted by the
drone of another motor, not the same plane but flying at a similar elevation,
which lazily and with what seemed to all of them excruciating slowness passed
over the basin, doubled back and disappeared much as the first had.
“I have to leave. Go back, so they’ll quit looking for me. You said you came for me. Take me back.
Let’s go far from here and then step out into the open when the next
plane comes over, get ‘rescued’ and you can say you found me.”
Kilgore shook his head, Einar
grim and silent. “Too risky, kid. Might work, sure, but there’s also a chance
they might fly out along our back trail just out of curiosity, see something
they shouldn’t be seeing. Some little
glimpse of the cabin, you know, or a place where these folks have worn a trail
out to the spot where they hang game in the trees, and the wind hasn’t entirely
blown it over yet. Funny thing about
tracks in the snow. Short sections of
trails can sometimes be preserved when you wouldn’t at all expect it, and then
there could be real trouble. Not worth
the risk. We just got to wait.”
“But all the planes flying
over…”
“I don’t like it any better
than anybody does, but what can you do? A storm will come, and then we make our move. Sometimes, you just got to have patience.”
“Patience, sure,” Einar
added, picking himself up off the floor and brushing bits of dirt from his
clothes, “but no fire. They come over
here with infrared looking for her heat signature against the snow and see our
chimney, a section of wall that the snow hasn’t totally drifted over yet…”
“Right indeed. Better not have anything to do with fires,
until either they give up and go away, or another storm grounds ‘em. Be a bit of a rough few days, pretty chilly
as low as the temperature has been getting out there at night, but we’ll all
manage. I’m sure it’s not the first time
you folks have faced cold camp conditions up here, and at least you got the
shelter of the cabin around you. Hey,
many folks as we got crammed in here, body heat alone ought to add at least a
few degrees to the place, and maybe after a day or so when we see what they’re
up to out there, a few candles wouldn’t be excessively unwise…”
Eianr gave his assent and Liz
nodded her agreement, also—there was no other way; they just couldn’t take the
risk—but looked worried.
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