Wilderness Passion (16 page)

“I hope you don’t run your scientific experiments like you did this little jaunt,” she said, anger in her voice. “We have a choice now. Either we stay here and hike back tomorrow morning or we start for base camp right now.”

Trevor shrugged, appearing pleased. “Let’s stay here, Doctor. The condor’s already gone for food. Maybe, if we get lucky, he’ll come back before nightfall and you can verify my findings. Don’t look so worried. Wagner can sit and wait for us.” He smiled, chuckling to himself as he began to gather some dry wood to start a fire later. “Maybe it’ll do him some good. Well, let’s make the best of this situation. Let’s set up camp at the tree line. Later I’ll tear the radio apart and see if I can’t get it working again. I know that will make you happy.”

Morosely, Libby took the binoculars at Bates’s urging. It was after sunset and the dying rays of the sun were long gone from the forest. He pointed excitedly toward the deeply shadowed cliffs.

“There! Do you see him? Do you?”

Libby tucked her lower lip between her teeth, trying to see the supposed condor, which had just returned to its nesting place for the night. Finally she spotted it. “Yes—I’ve got it....”

Excitedly, Bates hovered at her shoulder. “Well? Well?”

Libby brought the binoculars down, giving him a flat stare of disgust. “It’s a turkey buzzard, Trevor. It’s not a condor.”

His face fell, eyes widening in disbelief. “No!” he insisted, taking the glasses from her hand and looking again. “That can’t be! The wingspan on that bird is far too big for anything but a condor,” he argued, his nasal voice setting her nerves on edge.

Libby was too upset and tired to argue with him. “I know a turkey buzzard when I see one, Mr. Bates. It has a fleshy red neck. Condors have fleshy necks also, but the color is more like human flesh. It’s never red,” she intoned, turning and going back to the camp. Maybe now he would work on the damn radio. Tiredly, Libby jerked out her sleeping bag, unzipping it and sitting on it. She unlaced her boots, slipping off her socks and putting them in the boots.

Trevor returned, grimly silent. Like a man who refused to be wrong, he dragged out a book on condors. Libby watched disinterestedly, wishing she were home with Dan at that moment.

“Will you look at the radio now?” she insisted.

Glumly, Bates put down the book, because it was too dark to read it. “Yes, I suppose I can look at it.’’

By10:00 p.m. Libby was on the verge of tears. Bates had torn the radio apart and put it together twice and it still did not work. Disgusted, he tossed the useless piece of equipment onto his pack.

“Let’s go to bed. We’ll get up early and make it back to base by noon tomorrow. Then you’ll be happy and Wagner will be happy,” he griped moodily.

Libby crawled into the sleeping bag, feeling hot and sweaty. Even at night and at that altitude, the temperature was in the low eighties. She said nothing to Bates, wishing she had never met the man. Closing her eyes, Libby willed herself to sleep, dreaming of being in Dan’s protective, loving arms once again. Sometime during her tossing and turning that night, she awoke to the sound of thunder rumbling on the distant horizon, then quickly fell back to sleep.

10

T
REVOR GASPED, SPINNING
around, looking up at the early-morning sky. “Dr. Stapleton!” he yelled.

Groggily, Libby rolled over in her sleeping bag. “What?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Bates stumbled backward, his mouth dropping open, his eyes bulging in horror. “Oh, my God! Get up! Get up!”

She jerked upright at the panic in Bates’s squeaky voice. As she struggled out of the bag and to her feet, Libby turned toward him. Her eyes widened, fear stabbing through her. On the horizon, for as far as she could see, there was a dull yellow-orange glow blotting out the dawn. “What—” she gasped, running to his side, hands across her mouth. “What is it?” she gasped.

“A forest fire. A big one! God, we gotta get out of here. Fast!” he cried, nervously throwing his gear into his pack.

Anxiously, Libby looked first at the fire, which stretched horizon to horizon, and then at Bates. His movements were bordering on panic, his hands trembling. When he came to the broken radio, he threw it away in disgust.

Libby’s face drew into tense lines. “No one can reach us....” she said, alarm eating away at her brittle calm. She turned, staring up at the orange-colored sky. Dan’s words came floating back to her:
If you’ve never been in a forest fire
,
you can quickly become disoriented.
Forcing herself to remain calm despite Trevor’s hysteria, Libby tried to think coherently.

“Trevor, get me the map. We’ve got to try to make our way to Camp Three. If we reach it, we can radio for help.”

Shakily, Bates did as she suggested for once, without an argument. They knelt on the dry ground, huddled over the map. Libby caught the first whiff of smoke in the air and it sent her heart racing with fear. She traced the route toward the camp with her finger.

“It’s here. We have to go in a south—southeast direction, Trevor.” Her mind raced with possibilities. They were many miles south of their camp. Had Dan already mounted a search for them? It would be impossible to spot them from the air beneath the umbrella of forest trees.

“That camp is fifteen miles away!” Bates cried, sweat popping out on his brow. “We’ll never make it! We have to go north, back to my camp. They’ll rescue us there.”

“No, we’ll be walking right back into the arms of the fire. We can’t spend half a day moving toward it, Trevor. That’s suicide!”

The wind was picking up, coming from a northwesterly direction. Libby was sure it was pushing the fire just that much faster toward them. The sky was clear of the thunderstorms that had plagued her sleep the night before. Rain would not come to rescue them.

“We’ll never make it to that camp, Dr. Stapleton!” Bates said, growing firmer, though he trembled visibly as he watched the sky growing a brighter orange. “I’m going back! I don’t care what you do.”

Libby gazed up at him, stunned by his decision. “You’re crazy,” she said stiffly, getting to her feet. “I’m going to head toward Camp Three. When I get there, I’ll send word that you’re working your way back to your camp.”

Bates gave her a round-eyed look of disbelief. “I’m crazy? You’re crazier! You’ve got an eight-thousand-foot-high ridge and a narrow valley to cross in order to get to that camp! A person could die of a heart attack at this altitude trying to cover that kind of terrain at a fast pace!”

Libby gave him a glare. “It’s better than being roasted alive by going back to your camp! Are you coming or not?”

Bates stubbornly shook his head. “No. You’ll never make it. You’re signing your death warrant, Doctor.”

She flung him a grim smile, quickly walking over and picking up her pack. “Do me just one favor, Bates. If they do happen to get to you first, tell them my intended route so I can be rescued.”

He nodded, suddenly becoming calmer. “Certainly. Good luck,” he said.

She nodded, quickly packing only essential items, such as the first-aid kit, her canteen of water, a lightweight blanket and enough food to hold her for one day’s worth of travel. “Good luck to you, too,” she said, shrugging on the pack and nimbly tightening the straps so that it was resting comfortably on her shoulders and hips. Taking up the map and giving her compass one more check, Libby headed off in the direction of Camp Three, tossing one last look over her shoulder. Trevor Bates looked small and somehow like a gnarled old man as he slowly started up the hill toward his camp. You’re a fool, she muttered to herself, turning and beginning to jog slowly down the incline.

She tried to remember everything Dan had taught her. As Libby jogged along, she tied the red bandana around her forehead. The sweat was already beginning to trickle down the side of her jaw. Fifteen miles... She didn’t want to think of it as a lump sum. Setting her wristwatch, she tried to figure out how much time it would take to jog a mile. The incline would soon level out into a large meadow. She could make more time there. But would her body allow it? Libby hadn’t exercised since her first hike into the wilderness. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she slowed even more to conserve her energy for the long climb ahead. Had she made the right decision? Already half of the dawn had been eaten up by the orange glow. The smell of smoke was prevalent now, the wind carrying the odor from the northwesterly direction.

It took an hour to cross the meadow and begin the climb up the steep ridge, which was dotted with huge granite formations. Sweat trickled down between her breasts, her T-shirt, already soaked from her exertions, clinging to her skin. Talking to herself, Libby tried to keep calm and clear-sighted. But every time she looked over her shoulder at the orange sky, panic shot through her. The wind was changing erratically now and increasing in gustiness. She worried about Trevor. An ugly, unsettled feeling stayed with her, and Libby didn’t know if she was feeling danger for herself or for Bates.

Libby halted at noon, sobbing for breath. Her body was trembling, on the verge of collapse from the hard physical exertion of the climb. She stood on the crest of the ridge, the wind drying the perspiration on her glistening face. Looking north, she could clearly see yellow flames on the horizon. Her heart was pounding with fear, but she felt sadness, too; it was her forest, her trees, being destroyed by the monstrous fire. Tears trickled down her face, creating white paths through the grime and sweat. She shaded her eyes, trying to pick out the far ridge where Trevor was supposed to be. The fire seemed so close to Bates’s camp that it sent a spasm of fear through her. Bates would die. He would die because of his own stupidity. Libby took a small sip from her canteen, grateful for Dan’s warning about drinking too much water too quickly. Small sips taken frequently would be better absorbed by her dehydrating body.

She stood, resting one booted foot on a boulder, looking skyward. There, far above her, she could see what looked like World War II bombers flying toward the line of flames. Dan had mentioned that they would drop borate, a substance to smother the fire. Libby turned, realizing that she couldn’t rest if she wanted to outrun the flames. Snapping the canteen back on the belt, she began her descent into the V-shaped valley below. Libby worried about Dan. He couldn’t know what had happened between her and Trevor. Was he trying to find them? She knew he was. Just knowing that Dan was somehow trying to locate and rescue them gave her an incredible sense of calmness as she slipped and slid down the steep mountain on the dry bed of pine needles that covered the ground.

“Dammit, get one of those choppers back in here,” Dan snapped at his foreman. “I’ll go up myself!”

The base camp was a command center for the US Forest Service and firefighters who were being trucked in to halt the wildfire. Jeeps, trucks, bulldozers and hundreds of men milled around, waiting to go to the fire. Dan cursed, jerking on his hard hat and leaving the trailer to get to the radio. It was nearly one in the afternoon, and the sky was now a dull orange tinged with black. He had not slept all night, trying without success to locate Libby and Bates. At dawn he had sent a chopper to their camp, but no one had been there. Why hadn’t they answered their radio? He cursed, taking long strides toward the radio tent that had been erected at the end of the string of mobile offices. He saw another large transport plane land—that meant smoke jumpers. He swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing as he ducked under the tent flap.

“Jake, raise Brent. Tell him to get back in here immediately. I want the chopper refueled and then I’m going back up with him,” he ordered.

Jake nodded. “Right, boss. Brent’s combing Ridge 256 one last time. They got fire reported at Bates’s camp.” He grimaced. “If they went back there...” He didn’t finish, watching Wagner’s face grow black with anger.

“Forget 256! It’s gone,” Dan snarled. “Tell Brent to fly southwest on his way in and hightail it back here, pronto!”

“Right!”

Libby! Libby! he screamed in his head. Dan walked more slowly back toward his office. His stomach churned in fear as he thought of all the nightmarish possibilities. Knowing Bates, he guessed that the idiot would lose his head. But Libby wouldn’t. She had been too good a student. Had she headed toward Camp Three? It was their only hope. What if Trevor had persuaded her to take some other course of action? Dan’s eyes revealed his anguish as he halted, taking the hard hat off his head and wiping away the sweat on his brow. Dammit! I love you, Libby. I can’t lose you. Not like this. God, I’ve just found you.... He raised his chin, glaring in anguish up at the orange sky. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? Why hadn’t he said it two nights ago, when she’d lain in his arms after they had made such wonderful, passionate love?

“Dan! Dan!” Jake yelled excitedly. “Come here! Hurry!”

Dan turned, jogging back to the tent. Jake’s face was drawn with triumph. “They found Bates! Brent just radioed in. He’s got a visual on him.”

Dan’s face became intent “Libby? What about her? The company biologist. Is she with him?” he demanded.

Jake shrugged. “Brent said one person.”

Dan went to the map. “What are the coordinates?” he snapped, his heart sinking. He had a gut instinct that Bates and Libby weren’t together. Grimly he pursed his lips as Jake read off the longitude and latitude. Dan quickly traced it with his finger on the map. “Bates is south of his camp,” he muttered. They had searched north of the camp for three hours the day before, trying to find them. At midnight a series of thunderstorms had raged across the Salmon River Mountains and the forests had been turned into a roaring inferno. Dan was helpless to understand why Libby hadn’t returned to Bates’s camp. Had bears chased them? A cougar? Terrifying thoughts had haunted him throughout the night as he mounted a search effort to locate Libby and Bates before the approaching line of forest fire reached them. “That area is directly in front of the fire.”

Jake nodded. “Brent said the chopper’s heating up due to the intensity of the fire front. He was going to radio in once he picked up Bates. We should hear soon....”