Ben began to push the log down into the falls, but suddenly stopped to study it. With a little work he could booby-trap the bridge, and hope Poulin did try to use it to cross the gorge.
He used his knife to hack a wedge in the bottom of the rotting tree, which he propped up with a small stone. He tested the log for stability, satisfied Poulin would be too intent on finding Emma to notice his handiwork. Then he spent several minutes scanning the forest downstream again.
He caught a glimpse of something moving up the gorge and sighted in on Wayne, his finger on the trigger. But he wasn’t able to get a clear shot. Wayne was jumping from rock to rock, darting in and out of sight. Ben decided not to wait any longer. Wayne was still on the other side of the gorge, and Ben didn’t want to give away his presence.
He climbed down and returned to Emma. She was still sitting where he’d left her, her arms wrapped around herself, no longer shivering. As gently as he could, he pulled her wet sweater off and replaced it with his parka, then grabbed her face between his hands and made her look at him.
“Emma, listen to me. We’ve got to keep going. Can you walk?”
She nodded, cupping his hands with her own. Ben kissed her on the forehead. “Good girl. Any suggestions as to which way?”
“N-north. We’re going to have to go north b-before we can head east.”
Ben looked north, and realized it was all uphill.
“Is there anyplace we can hide, Emma? We’ve got to stop long enough to get you warm.”
“Th-there’s the headwaters of Medicine Creek. And some caves just above it, on the other side of this mountain.”
Which meant they would still have to travel uphill. She didn’t appear able to walk down the mountain, much less up it.
He wanted to hold her until she was warm. “Come on, honey. We’ve got to move,” he said, gently lifting her up.
He positioned his pack on his back, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and wrapped one arm around her waist for support. They began the arduous journey, and Ben was damn proud of the effort she made to keep up.
It wasn’t long, however, before her stumbling became impossible to deal with. He reached inside his parka and found her skin was dry but cold, unable to produce enough body heat to keep her core temperature up. Whatever energy she could muster was being used to keep her moving.
“How much farther?” he asked, stopping to let her catch her breath.
She looked around, trying to read the forest. “Another half mile, I think,” she said, her breathing labored and her words barely audible.
Ben looked over their back trail before he reached down, placed his shoulder into her stomach, and lifted her over his back in a fireman’s carry. “If we’re going to make it, I’ll have to carry you.”
When he guessed he’d traveled far enough, he set Emma on her feet and held her steady. “Where?” he asked.
“There,” she said, taking a stumbling step. “Maybe a hundred yards up there.”
Great. More uphill. He guided her progress with a hand on her waist as she led him to a blind cliff with fallen rocks at its base.
“There’s an opening to the left of those trees,” she said weakly.
Ben scooped her up in his arms and picked his way through the jumble of weather-worn talus. He heard the trickle of water before he saw it. Steam emanated from a crack in the cliff as water gurgled directly out of the mountain and flowed toward the valley below. The first thing he noticed as he approached was the heat; the second thing was the smell of rotten eggs.
Sulphur? That meant the cave would be uninhabitable.
Ben set Emma in a concealed spot before he took off his pack and leaned his rifle against a rock next to her. Then he carefully tested the temperature of the water.
The spring wasn’t hot, but warm enough to produce steam in this cold weather. He moved to the entrance of the cave and peered inside, sniffing the air, faintly smelling sulphur. He decided to move Emma just inside the mouth of the cave so there would be plenty of fresh air.
He made his way back down to where he’d left her, only to find her staring at his pack. “Ben? Your backpack is making funny noises.”
Chapter Twenty
“Oh, shit! The bird!” Ben grabbed the canvas bag and unzipped it, peeling back the top flap. He pulled out the small dented cage and peered inside.
The pigeon peered back at him.
“Homer!” Emma cried, her voice weak but with welcome animation. She looked at Ben. “How come you have him?”
“Mike sent him with me this morning. I put him in my pack to protect him from the cold.” He set the cage inside the entrance. “Let’s get you out of those clothes,” he said when he returned, and lifted her to her feet. “The entrance is just big enough to get through. I brought some dry clothes with me. We’ll get you into them, then I want you to sit near the mouth of the cave.”
“But it opens up into a small room,” she said, hobbling over the rocks beside him, leaning against him when she nearly fell.
“There’s been a lot of seismic activity. I don’t know if it’s stable or gaseous.”
She stopped and glared at him weakly.
“What?” he asked.
“You put Homer in the cave.”
“Damn right I did. He’s our canary. If he croaks, we’re outta there.”
She gasped, and Ben carried her the rest of the way. As soon as they were completely inside the cave, which indeed opened up into a small chamber, he felt the warmth. It was no sweat lodge, but it was just what Emma
