Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

MARK

H e desperately did not want to shoot this goddamned bear. Especially when he spotted the radio collar around its neck.

Goddammit.

“Go away bear!” he yelled, blasting another shot of bear spray at it when it took two steps toward him.

Then she stopped, shook her head, and backed up a step.

He took that moment to quickly back away, spraying her again. “Go away bear!” he yelled.

The cub behind her turned and ran the other direction, shaking its head, so he guessed it’d received a dose, too.

The sow swung her head around, then back toward Mark, and finally turned, loping after her cub.

He holstered his gun, turned, and ran after Chris, glancing back to make sure the sow wasn’t following.

He registered that the mules were making a commotion but they didn’t sound hurt.

He caught up with Chris who still held his can of bear spray.

“Give me the radio,” Mark said. “I need to call that in, find out which bear that is.”

Christopher’s eyes widened. “Uh, radio?”

“Yeah, the radio! I handed it to you hold while I went to take a dump.”

“Um…”

His heart dropped. “Chris! Where the fuck is the radio?”

Christopher’s face reddened. “I, uh, think I threw it at the bear.”

“You threw the radio at the bear?” he screamed. “Why the fuck did you throw the radio at the bear?”

“Because it was in my hand and I was too worried about her charging Jesse to process what it was and not throw my bear spray at it!”

“Why would you throw your bear spray instead of spraying bear spray?”

“I did spray my bear spray, but you always told me you’re supposed to throw something to distract it! It was in my fucking hand!”

In that moment, if Mark didn’t love Chris he’d be tempted to strangle him.

Scratch that, he was still tempted to strangle him.

“You’re supposed to drop something, not throw it, and?—”

They both turned at the sound of Jesse’s panicked screams.

They shoved through the underbrush, following the sound. They quickly emerged at a stream bank and spotted Jesse’s orange rain slicker as she thrashed in the cold water about thirty yards downstream. While the water wasn’t exceptionally deep it ran higher and faster than usual due to spring melt, meaning it could easily sweep an adult off their feet.

And obviously had, carrying her away.

Not to mention the snowmelt was frigid. If they didn’t get her out fast it might be hypothermia that killed her instead of a bear or drowning.

“Shit!” they both screamed. Mark shed his pack and bolted along the bank, trying to catch up with her. Chris still wore his pack and stumbled, falling. Mark knew that more because of the sounds Chris made because Mark didn’t dare take his eyes off Jesse, much less look behind him.

“Grab something!” Mark screamed at her, not sure if she could even hear him over the rushing water and her own panicked howls.

Fear even colder than the water racing past him sliced deep into his gut. That’s when she managed to flail herself halfway across a large, flattish rock close to the bank and hung on as the frigid water sluiced over her.

He wasn’t even thinking when he stopped just past her and shed his duty belt and jacket on the bank. He looked around for a branch he could hand to her when Christopher, now minus his pack, pounded up with a coil of rope in his hand. “Here!”

“Hang on, Jesse!” Mark yelled.

Mark quickly tied a harness around himself while Christopher belayed the other end around a sturdy tree and made ready to haul them in.

He couldn’t tell how deep the water was at the bank but she was less than ten feet from the edge and it looked like her grip was slipping. Taking a risk, he moved a few feet upstream and leapt, praying, and managed to land exactly where he’d hoped while doing his best to ignore the shock of the cold water. Jesse’s lips were already blue and he carefully edged around the rock, thankfully feeling gravelly bottom under his boots.

“Get ready to pull!” he yelled, hoping Chris could hear. “I don’t know how long I can hold her!” Ideally he’d try to get the pack off her but he was afraid she’d lose her grip in the process and at least the pack was another handhold for him.

Her gaze met his, terror and impending hypothermia blanking her expression. “I’ve got you, honey,” he said, praying that wasn’t a lie. “You have to hold on to me.” He kept one hand on the rock, barely, and snaked his other arm around her, under her armpit and between her and the pack.

Yes, it was wet, dead weight, an additional drag for the stream to pry her away from him, but he didn’t have time to critique his swift-water rescue technique. He wasn’t sure, at first, if she even processed his words when she finally threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him.

“Now!” he screamed at Chris and felt the pull of the rope as he scrambled backward toward the shore. Somehow, moments later, both of them lay shivering on the bank with Christopher trying to peel Jesse’s pack off her.

“We need to get her changed and start a fire to warm her up,” Chris said. “Both of you. Right now.”

Mark numbly nodded and stood, untying the rope harness as Chris took charge of Jesse. He scooped her into his arms and headed upstream along the bank, leaving Mark to his own devices.

Adrenaline belatedly slammed into Mark, driving him to his knees, his teeth now chattering.

I’m cold. I need to get warm. I can’t stop moving.

He climbed to his feet, coiled the rope because he knew they might need it, and barely remembered to grab his duty belt and coat and Jesse’s water-soaked pack.

Keep moving. Keep moving until I can get dry and warm.

Yes, they trained.

They trained in summer’s scorching heat and in deep, December snow. In rain and sleet and conditions that would make the most experienced woodsman weep and cry uncle.

But training was a hell of a lot different than this. Especially when most of his duties involved verifying backcountry permits, finding lost hikers, or coordinating with the helitack crew for a short-haul helo rescue, or investigating collared animal deaths. He liked his job because most of it involved dealing with people obeying the law and happy to be where they were, all while safely and responsibly enjoying the park.

He’d never drawn his service weapon before. Not outside of training. And he’d also never jumped into a river for a real swift-water rescue.

Mark caught up with Christopher where Chris had dropped his pack. He was already stripping Jesse so he could put dry clothes on her from his pack. He’d shed his jacket and wrapped it around her.

He looked up. “Find your pack and change clothes. Then get back here. We need to start a fire.”

Mark nodded and dropped everything, barely processing that it was ironic Christopher now operated in a kick-ass mode Mark never witnessed in him before.

I’d probably think that was hot if I wasn’t so fucking cold.

Forcing himself to keep moving, he retraced his steps and quickly located his pack and changed. He had two hand warmer packs but he saved them, knowing Jesse needed them more. There were more in his other pack on the mules. Right now, he couldn’t do anything about his soaked shoes, but he found two plastic bags in his pack, pulled them over his fresh, dry socks, and donned his shoes over them. Normally, these boots were reliably waterproof.

Normally, he wasn’t jumping into a frigid, rushing stream to rescue someone.

At least that would do until he built a fire and they dried out. Plus, he was certain he had at least one pair of waterproof socks in his other pack. He hadn’t thought to swap out his usual socks in his pack for extra pairs of waterproof ones, because he hadn’t anticipated an icy swim, and they’d been traipsing through dry terrain.

When he returned to Christopher and Jesse, Chris had dressed her in his spare clothes, which swallowed her. She looked up at Mark, her teeth chattering.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered.

Something seized in his chest, a fist tightly squeezing. She looked so vulnerable, and lost, and completely out of her element. Not just swallowed by Christopher’s clothes, but nearly swallowed whole, irrevocably, by the thing he loved second only to the man standing next to her.

He knelt and activated the warming packs, reaching inside the jacket, tucking them over the shirt but under each armpit.

“Hey, not like I’m going to let another sparkly, pain-in-my-ass vampire unicorn drown. You’re kind of a matched pair now.”

She managed the ghost of a smile as he pulled the coat tightly around her.

Christopher was already up and moving, his small tactical hatchet in his hand. “There was a flat, open area not far upstream. I didn’t see any snags. We can make camp there, lay a fire, and be sheltered from the worst of the wind by the hillside. Move her, make sure it’s safe from snags, and set up the tent and get her inside.”

“What about the mules and the radio?”

“We’ll worry about them once we warm her up.”

“What are you going to do?” Mark asked.

He pulled on his pack, and Mark realized he also carried his foldable saw. “Collect wood for the fire. We’ll need a reflector, too, but we’ve got to get her warmed up. I’ll work my way there with wood.”

They both looked up at the sound of an osprey’s cry somewhere overhead.

And they both said, “Oh, shit .”

Not because of the bird, but because they finally processed it was starting to snow.