Page 71 of The Last Stars in the Sky
“We’ll go farther up then,” I reply staunchly.
“They’ll be listening for us—”
“This is our only chance, Kerry. We have to try to get across.” I pause, knowing it’s not fair to take her on this wild ride, a veritable suicide mission. “But if you want to get off here,” I tell her, “walk back to the cottage, I’d understand.” I twist around to face her. “I really would, absolutely. Just tell me how to find this nurse’s house first.”
Kerry stares at me for a second; in the darkness, I can’t make out her expression. “After everything we’ve been through, Alex…all these months…” She pauses. “Do you really think I’d do that?” Her voice is caught between curiosity and hurt.
I’m touched, and I almost feel guilty for having asked the question at all. “Don’t you think I have a duty to give you the choice?” I ask her.
She sighs and shakes her head, and in the glint of moonlight I see a small, sad smile quirk the corner of her mouth. “Start up the bike, Alex.”
TWENTY-THREE
We drive for twenty minutes through the freezing dark, bumping through the snow, my fingers numb and aching in my gloves, curled around the handlebars. When we come out to the road, it’s at least a quarter-mile past the bridge, and we’ll have to double back to head to Eagle Rapids, which will add another twenty minutes, at least.
I cut the engine, and we stare at the darkened river in front of us, the road we need to travel down on the other side. The river is covered with snow; itlooksfrozen, but will it hold a four-wheeler? According to Kevin, the ice needs to be six inches thick for a person to walk on, seven or eight for a quad bike and a few inches more for a car. Is the ice that thick? It’s nearly March; winter is on the wane. It’s impossible to know if it will hold us.
And then, beyond the danger of the river, there’s the bank on the other side; it’s steep, practically a ninety-degree incline. If we manage to make it across, by the time we manage to get up it,ifwe get up it, the truck could be upon us.
“This is not looking good,” Kerry says.
It’s not feeling good either—there is nothing but one obstacle after another, with no relief, no respite, and we don’t even knowif we’ll find this nurse or if she’ll have antibiotics. I take a deep breath and press the gas.
We careen down the bank so fast I don’t even have to touch the accelerator, and then we shoot across the river, so I don’t think we’d have time for the ice to crack. In the distance I think I hear a shout, the sound of an engine starting up. Then it’s up the bank, pushing as hard on the accelerator as I can, my thumb throbbing with the effort, everything straining, but, after just a few seconds, I can feel that we aren’t going to make it. It’s simply too steep. The engine hits a high-pitched whine, and we start sliding down, and Kerry and I both realize at the same time what is going to happen—the bike is going to flip over right on top of us. We simultaneously fling ourselves off, into the snow, and the quad rolls down the bank, handlebars over wheels, back to the river, where it sputters to a stop, lying on its side.
We’re both breathing hard, bruised and shaken, and in the distance, we can hear the roar of the truck, coming for us.
“Leave the bike,” Kerry whispers. “We’ll have to go by foot. It’s the only way.”
So once again we’ll be stranded. I know she’s right, but I don’t want to leave our only mode of transportation behind,again. I don’t want to be so vulnerable, out here alone in the snow and the dark, with these evil predators searching for us. As quietly as I can, I crawl on my hands and knees to where the bike is resting, and then I reach over and take the key out of the ignition. I crawl back to Kerry, and we start to head along the river, back toward the bridge, pressing close to the bottom of the bank, while the truck roars above us and then slows, the engine idling right above our heads.
“Come on, now, little ladies,” one of the guys calls, his voice sounding slurred. They’re all probably drunk or drugged up or both. “We know you’re down there. Don’t be shy with us.” Another one laughs, the ugly sound making the hairs on thenape of my neck prickle. We both know what these men are capable of.
I glance at Kerry, who makes a gagging face, and once again, utterly improbably, I almost laugh. I’m beyond terror now, I realize; I have the same disembodied sense I had when I was stitching up Ruby, only even more so. It’s like I’m watching an action movie, and part of me is sitting on a sofa somewhere, wondering at what point I should go make the popcorn. Maybe that’s the only way to get through this.
We continue to edge our way along the river, toward the bridge and Eagle Rapids, while the truck stays parked above. The men have climbed out of it; I can hear them walking around, their murmuring voices, the occasional hard laugh, but I don’t know which direction they’re heading. I don’t think any of them wants to risk scrambling down the bank, but if they see us, they might take a shot, just because. We keep inching along, trying to be as quiet as possible.
“The ice is going to break up as we head toward the rapids,” Kerry says in a low voice. “At some point we’ve got to get up the bank before we fall in.”
“We’ll do it when we’re clear.”
“And when will that be?” she asks dryly. “If ever?”
We haven’t heard the guys for a few minutes; we might have left them behind. I can hope, anyway. “The truck hasn’t moved,” I tell Kerry, “and I don’t think they can see us down here. They don’t know which way we’re going.”
“They might come down and get the quad.”
“They might.”
We keep walking.
Another few minutes pass as we inch along and then, in the distance, we hear the truck start up. In the darkness, Kerry and I exchange a fathomless look and press up against the bank. The truck rumbles above our heads, and then drives on. I slowlylet out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Are we safe, relatively speaking?
We remain still and tense for another minute, waiting for the sound of the truck to completely recede, and then I turn to Kerry.
“Let’s go back and get the bike.”
She shakes her head. “We won’t be able to get it up the bank, Alex.”
