CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Victor moved slowly through the forest toward the cabin. There was no need to run and risk overheating. Sweat was deadly in temperatures like this. It would freeze and create a layer of ice around the body. It could even freeze in the pores at extremely low temperatures. If that happened, death would occur within minutes.

He wondered if Kelly would freeze to death before reaching the cabin. She was smart enough to know not to overheat in low temperatures, but she was also on the run and terrified. It was one thing to know that when you were facing a grizzly bear, your best chance of survival was to lie down in a ball and cover your head. It was another thing entirely to have the strength of will to do it when a seven-hundred-pound animal was charging you with an open mouth full of fangs.

It would be a little disappointing, he supposed, if her own fear killed her instead of his traps, but he'd get over it. That was the risk he assumed when he stepped on those branches and swore loudly enough for her to hear. The crossbow bolt he'd fired when she fell might have been a step too far, but she was his last target in Alaska, so he allowed himself a little theatricality. Well, more theatricality than usual.

Graham lived in a commune now. He didn't come into the wilderness anymore, not even the Montana wilderness. That would make him the most difficult to kill. He'd have to sneak into his home and stab him, or maybe even buy a rifle and kill him from a distance.

That would be hugely disappointing. Anyone could kill a person by shooting them. It was easy to do that. But to outsmart a person and drive them into traps? That was real hunting.

Not that the Nature's Guardians ever understood that. They called themselves survivalists, but they were just common outdoorsmen and women. Hikers and campers and hunters. They had satellite phones and compasses and cotton blankets and generators and guns.

His lip curled. Traps were the real sign of intelligent hunting. Finding an animal and using a gun to kill it was easy. Knowing that animal, understanding its habits and movements, knowing where it was going to be and putting traps in place to kill it was a superior demonstration of one's capability.

And they thought he was the incompetent one. They said he was the poser. Why? Because he wore furs he had taken from the animals he'd killed? Because he wore shoes made of leather he had cured from the same moose that contributed the antlers he'd carved into the two knives he carried around his belt, and used a bow made from another set of antlers, this one taken from an Elk he'd killed with a snare just like the one he'd used to sever Valerie North's head?

His lips thinned as he recalled how they laughed at him. At him! Pretenders. Liars. City dwellers. They didn't deserve to call themselves survivalists. They played survival games, but they didn't know how to last out in the wilderness. Take away their cabins with their stashes of processed food, their technology, their gas generators, and where were they? They had no chance out here.

He heard a branch snap ten yards ahead of him, and a moment later, he saw the beam of a flashlight spin around. He lowered his head and froze in place. In the middle of a thick stand of spruce, his brown clothing would look like another tree trunk if he didn't move.

As it turned out, the beam never even passed over him. Kelly was so panicked she didn't even look where her beam was moving. He waited a few minutes, then continued toward the cabin, moving more slowly. Jesus, this dumb bitch couldn't even run properly.

Maybe he should just catch up to her and brain her over the head. If he really wanted to see her caught in a trap, he could just carry her to one and toss her in it himself. That wasn't really the point of the traps, but it was getting embarrassing following someone who lost all composure the minute she was faced with real danger.

That was real proof of their weakness. The instant they were pushed outside of their comfort zone, the "Nature's Guardians" fell apart. Ethan Holloway would be lost without his satellite phone. Valerie North could only go a day without food before she gave up and ran straight back home to her microwave dinners and her dried pasta. Lisa Blackwood would rather talk about survival than do it. Graham couldn't survive without someone stroking his ego every damned second. Jake was more interested in avoiding his wife and finding something warm to hold at night than he was about being a true wilderness man.

Jake. Damn it, he'd nearly forgotten about Jake. He had to take care of Jake before he made the trek to Montana.

To be fair, Jake was the least annoying of the group. He was the only one who didn't pretend to be someone he wasn't. He was fully aware of the fact that he was a hobbyist and not a survivalist and made no attempt to convince others that he was a wilderness man.

Still, he hadn't stood up for him when he was denied entry. Maybe Jake didn't need the help, but the others did. He should have recognized that and fought against the people who made fun of him instead of just laughing along with Kelly.

Kelly. She annoyed him the most. She just showed up to shake her ass and flash her tits and see which of the boys dropped to their knees and begged for the privilege of seeing it again. He hated women like that even more than he hated the chatty bitches like Lisa or the weak ones like Valerie.

Deep within the recesses of his mind, deeper than he acknowledged, he was hurt that she hadn't tried to flirt with him the way she had with the others. She had taken one look at him and sneered like he was something she had stepped in. She claimed to be interested in survival, and he was the man who could have taught her more about survival than anyone else.

He didn't even want sex with her. He had never really been interested in that. Sex was how animals bred offspring, and he was too old to raise children. Not when he knew that the moment they saw an electric light or heard an automobile engine, they'd forget all about the true life of the wilderness and run straight to the nearest damned convenience store.

But he could have given Kelly something more meaningful than sex. He could have taught her how to survive in the wilderness as he had.

Victor remembered very little of his childhood. His mother had never been in the picture. His father was a stern man who spoke very little. They lived in a cabin in the Yukon and ate whatever they hunted or gathered. His father must have taught him some things, but Victor didn't remember the lessons. Not the one his dad taught him anyway.

His dad was taken by a bear when Victor was ten years old. After that, Victor was on his own. And he'd done fine. He hunted, fished and gathered, chopped firewood, and made clothing from the skins of the animals he killed. He couldn't remember if he missed his father or not. Probably he had. The old man was the only company he'd had for any length of time, and he'd never abused Victor.

But death happened. That was part of life. Sometimes you beat the bear, and sometimes, the bear beat you.

He'd learned to set traps because his small size made it difficult for him to use his bow effectively for anything larger than geese or hares. He had to protect himself from bears and wolves, and he needed to take elk and moose every now and then, and snares and traps were the only way he could manage big game.

But he'd managed. He'd grown bigger and stronger, and when he was fourteen, he decided he was strong enough to leave the cabin and strike out on his own.

So he had. He'd headed north first, but past the tundra there was nothing but ice. He knew it was possible to live up there. The natives built igloos and hunted seals and whales for blubber. They protected themselves from polar bears using spears made from whale bones and opened holes in the ice to fish.

He respected the hell out of those natives. They were one of the few peoples on Earth that remembered how to live the way nature intended. They survived in an environment even harsher than the one in which Victor thrived.

But that wasn't for him. He liked the forest. He knew it. It was his home, and it was even more vast and beautiful than the ice cap.

So, he headed south again. He went east for a while and for many years explored the empty Canadian wilderness. He traveled far, how far, he didn't know, but hundreds of miles, at least. When he decided he'd journeyed east as far as he wanted, he turned west.

It was here, in Alaska, that he first came into contact with other people. That was ten years ago now. He had walked into the small village of Copper River out of curiosity and found people who would accept him even if they didn't quite understand him.

Those were good days. Sometimes, Victor wished he could be content with being the slightly odd frequent visitor who would share tales of the wilderness to listening ears around the bar. Alcohol was the only modern human convenience that he enjoyed, and the people who listened to his tales didn't laugh. They looked at him like a sage, and damn it, that's what he was.

But it wasn't enough. Seeing fathers with their sons reminded him of his own father. He realized painfully that he hadn't fathered any children to carry on his family legacy. There was no one who would remember how to live free from the protection of the herd and the holes they built for themselves.

So, he decided he would teach. He would find people interested in learning, not just listening. He looked around throughout the small towns scattered across the wilderness and found a group he was certain would understand and want what he had to offer them.

And they had laughed at him. They had scorned him. They had even dared to suggest that he was a fraud, a crazy drunk who wandered in looking like a caricature and tried to make friends so he could… what had Kelly said? Find some money for booze?

She would learn. She would live long enough to understand her mistake.

A scream split the night, and Victor grinned. She'd reached the cabin and found one of the traps. He moved less carefully now, pushing through the trees and stepping into the small clearing in front of the cabin Kelly had built so she could have supplies to rescue her from her incompetence in the wilderness.

Kelly sobbed. She tried to pry open the bear trap that had snapped shut around her right leg. She managed to open it about two inches before it snapped shut around her leg again. She screamed once more, and he watched, drinking in the sound.

Then she opened her eyes and saw him. Her face blanched. "You…"

"Me," he agreed. "Hello, Kelly."

"Oh God… Oh, God! Help! Help me!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Come on, Kelly. You know there ain't no one out here but you and me. Besides, God helps those who help themselves, not those who whore around for men who can help them."

"You bastard! Leave me alone. Help!"

He shrugged. "I'm a bastard. That's all right. I know better than to run straight into a damned bear trap." He grinned at her again. "Hey, I have an idea. How about I drag you into the cabin, hang you up on the hooks I've built and cut pieces off of you until you die."

She sobbed, and he nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. Gonna have to break your other leg and both your arms first. Can't have you flailing around."

He stepped forward and caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his left eye. He spun around, hand flying for his knife, but the wolf sank its fangs into his shoulder and dragged him to the ground just as his fingers found the carved bone handle.