Page 44 of Protecting the Flame

“Thanks.” If they could spot the cockpit, though, and somehow reach it… “Will, if it’s down there, I think we have to try and check it out, don’t you? Burke had a map. Maybe it’s still there or he had others.” Maybe there was more—batteries, a radio, something. God, a satellite phone would be a real miracle.

“Well,” he said, sidestepping carefully to the edge but steering well clear of the ice slick, “I guess that depends on how far down they…” He stopped talking.

“What?” She forced herself to move slowly to avoid taking a spill, already dreading what she would see.

The cockpit was directly below, shrouded in snow and hung up on a very wide, snow-covered plateau in a tangled cradle of the stout branches of tough, gnarled pine. Because it had smacked onto its belly instead hitting nose-first, there was no way to tell how many bodies were still inside or if anyone had been thrown. She didn’t see anyone lying on the snow nearby, but with the storm, that meant nothing. The drop was at least a hundred feet and probably a lot more, so it was hard to imagine that anyone had survived first the actual impact of the plane careening into trees and then plummeting over a frozen waterfall. The valley itself was odd, though. It was as if there were two valleys, the one the plane had landed in and then, beyond, yet another U-shaped expanse.

“Hanging valley,” Will said when she pointed that out. “I’ve heard of them. There’s one at Glacier. But I’m not sure of the mechanism. All I know is it has something to do with one part eroding faster than the other. This might help us, though.”

“How do you figure?”

“Getting down there. This part with the waterfall is a sheer drop-off, but…” He wandered to the right a short ways, studying the snow. “I think if we walk along the edge for a time, we might find a more gradual way down.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then, I guess we’re screwed.” He stopped then pointed down at snow that seemed oddly trammeled and bunched. “But if critters can do it, I figure we can, too.”

“What kind of critters?” she said, but she was already thinking of those odd screams and, when she got a good look, a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the cold shuddered down her spine. “How many do you think there were?”

“I’m thinking at least three.” He used the tip of his pole to prod at something that looked like a discarded blackened cigar butt. “That spoor’s still soft, too, so it hasn’t been long.” He gestured with his pole. “The prints head back into the woods not far from where we came out.”

Crap. She turned an alarmed glance back into the trees, though, of course, no self-respecting wolf was going allow itself to be seen. Kneeling alongside Will, she stared at the spoor and spotted tufts of what looked like hair. Probably from whatever…whomever…the wolf had last eaten. Rabbits? Maybe? If that was true, what she’d heard might not have been human at all. She wished that made her feel better. “You think we scared them off?”

Will shook his head. “I doubt it. Look at these prints.” He used a gloved finger to trace the outline of a much-larger print with four rounded toes and a wide central pad. “No claw marks.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Mountain lion, more than likely. A pretty big one, too. I’m no expert, but see here?” He indicated several yellow splotches melted into the snow. “The wolves got spooked and beat feet. So did the mountain lion, but I’ll bet it left because it heard or smelled us coming.” Rising, he turned to look toward the dense forest to the west. “Might have a den close by or be watching, waiting for us to leave. Could be that’s what you heard that first night and what we heard this morning. It would also explain why no one answered when we shouted back.”

“Seriously?”Mattie was all by herself in the fuselage with her unconscious mother. My God, what if it came after them?

As if reading her thoughts, Will said, “The barrier will discourage any predators, and so will the fire. Besides, I don’t think they’ll bother us for a while, not when there’s a buffet down there.”

“God.” She shivered from fright and the cold. “And I thought I was morbid.” The sooner they got out of here and back to the fuselage, the better. “Can we get the hell out of here now?”

“Not until we check out the wreck. We’ve come all this way. It would be stupid not to try. I don’t think anything’s going to bother us in broad daylight and, like you said, there could be things down there we can use.”

“Will, it’s at least a hundred, maybe two hundred feet down. How are we going to do that?” Thanks to Ben, she knew how to rappel in a pinch, but Will didn’t stand a chance with his shoulder. She could probably get back up, so long as one end of the rope was fixed, but she’d really rather not have to prove that, thanks.

“Well, the animals gathered here for a reason. If they wanted a snack, they needed a way down.” He studied the slope. “How much billy goat blood do you have?”

“Oh, ha-ha.” But she spotted what he’d seen: the narrow meander of an animal trail through snow. She followed it with her eyes and saw how it wound away before curving back east, toward them—and the wreck. Despite those odd cries, she wondered if any animals had been down there already. Possibly not; the snow over the wreck looked relatively undisturbed.

“Hello?” She jumped as Will cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted again, “Hello, is there anyone down there?”

“God, some warning next time, please? You about gave me a heart attack.” She listened to the crash of his words echoing and bouncing off rock before dying. The wind was a hollow moan and from somewhere came a whump as snow tumbled from a bough. It hit Emma she hadn’t heard any birds at all. Maybe they didn’t come up this high?

“Hello?” Will called again. “Can you hear me? Is there anyone there?”

She wanted him to stop. She wanted to put her hand on his good arm and pull him away from the edge. She wanted to get back to the fire and that damn fuselage and have some hot tea and hunker down until someone found them. “Will, can we—”

“H-hullo?” The word seemed to float on a whisper of thin air. An agonizing pause and then: “Hello?”

“Oh, Jesus.” Cupping his hand to his mouth again, Will leaned so dangerously close to the edge, she grabbed a fistful of his parka. “Hello?” Will shouted. “Hello, who’s there?”

“Help,” the voice said. “Help.”

God, it figures. Because she recognized that voice.

Scott.

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