Chapter 9 #2
I can’t argue with that logic. But I also can’t ignore the fact that our journey suddenly got a hell of a lot more complicated.
We now have a cameraman with potentially ruined equipment, Lena with a freshly injured ankle, and a creek crossing that is growing more dangerous by the minute.
“We need to make camp,” I announce to the group. “Carlos needs to dry out, and we need to reassess our route.”
Elliott’s face clouds. “We’ve lost a day. We can’t afford another delay.”
“We can’t afford a drowned crew member either,” I point out.
“I’m fine,” Carlos insists, though his teeth are chattering from the cold water.
“You’re not fine,” I state. “You need dry clothes and a thorough check of that equipment. And everyone needs a break after that excitement.” I turn to Elliott. “Besides, this gives you footage of a real rescue. Much better television than whatever you had planned for today.”
That gets his attention. Elliott’s expression changes from frustration to calculation. “You’re right. We’ll play up the danger angle. Lena rising to the occasion, saving a crew member. It’s perfect for her redemption narrative.”
Of course, that would be his takeaway.
While Elliott recalibrates his production plans, I help Lena to a fallen log where she can sit and elevate her ankle.
The rest of the crew busies themselves setting up a hasty camp.
Carlos strips off his wet clothes and wraps himself in an emergency thermal blanket, looking like a giant baked potato.
“I owe you,” he says to Lena, teeth still chattering. “I thought I was dead for sure.”
“Just doing what needed to be done,” she replies, though I catch the smile she doesn’t hide from the cameras this time.
I kneel beside her to examine her ankle again. Her boot is laced tight, but I can see the strain in the leather and the way she holds herself—favoring it more than before. The swelling’s likely returned, undoing all the progress from her day of rest.
“We need to wrap this well and get some willow bark tea in you.”
“Is that your solution for everything? Tree bark tea?” she asks, though there’s no real bite in her words.
“Only for things that work,” I reply, pulling medical supplies from my pack. “Can’t fix stupidity with tree bark, though. Otherwise, I’d be making gallons for some of these crew members.”
She laughs, a sound that catches me off guard.
“And here I thought you were all gruff mountain man with no sense of humor.”
“I save it for special occasions.” I unlatch her boot and ease it off. “Like near-death experiences and sprained ankles. Also, solar eclipses and when moose wander into my yard.”
“Lucky me.” She winces as I probe the tender area.
“Do the moose appreciate your humor?”
“Hard to tell. They’ve never left a Yelp review, but they keep coming back. Unlike my human guests.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she deadpans, then hisses through her teeth as I find a tender spot.
“The good news is it’s not worse than before,” I tell her. “The bad news is we’ve undone most of the healing from yesterday. ”
She nods, accepting the diagnosis without complaint. “What’s the plan now?”
I glance toward the creek, which continues to rise as we speak. The logs that had formed our bridge are now submerged, water rushing over them with increasing force.
“We’re not crossing back soon,” I say. “We’ll camp here tonight and see if the water level drops by morning.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we find another way around,” I say. “There’s always another path if you know where to look.”
While I wrap her ankle, Elliott approaches with his ever-present clipboard, now speckled with water stains from the creek. “Finn, I need to speak with you privately.” His tone is serious.
I finish securing Lena’s wrap. “Rest. Don’t put weight on it.” She nods, and I follow Elliott a short distance from camp. He glances back to make sure no one can overhear us.
“I got off the satellite phone with the network,” he says. “They love what we have so far—especially the early footage of Lena struggling with the terrain. But they want more interpersonal drama.”
I stare at him. “Someone nearly drowned today. That’s not dramatic enough?”
“Physical danger is great television,” Elliott acknowledges. “But viewers also want emotional stakes. They’re suggesting we play up the tension between you and Lena.”
“There is no tension,” I say flatly.
Elliott’s eyebrow lifts. “Really? Because everyone else sees it. The classic wilderness-guide-versus-city-slicker dynamic. The network wants more of that. Conflict, then gradual mutual respect, maybe even a hint of attraction.”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’m not performing for your cameras. I’m here to keep everyone alive and get them back. That’s it. ”
Elliott sighs. “Look, I’m not asking you to fake anything. Don’t hold back. If she annoys you, show it. If you’re impressed by her, show that too. Be authentic, that’s all.”
“I’m always authentic,” I say. “That’s the difference between us.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to argue but thinks better of it. “Just think about it. This show could bring a lot of business to your lodge. The right kind of tension on screen translates to bookings in real life.”
He has me there, and he knows it. I need the money from this expedition, and future bookings would help keep Crystal Creek afloat. But I’m not about to manufacture drama for ratings, especially not at Lena’s expense. She’s been through enough.
“I’ll be myself,” I say at last. “Take it or leave it.”
Elliott nods, knowing it’s the best offer he’ll get. “Fair enough.”
When I return to camp, Lena has changed into dry clothes and is attempting to help set up the cooking area, hopping on one foot.
“Sit down before you fall down,” I tell her, taking the pot from her hands.
“I’m not completely useless,” she protests.
“I’m not saying you are. But you performed a water rescue with a bum ankle. You’ve earned a rest.” I guide her back to the log. “Besides, I don’t trust your cooking. You probably think pine needles are a garnish and tree sap is artisanal maple syrup.”
She snorts. “Like you’re Julia Child. I’ve seen what you call cooking. The MREs in your pack have expiration dates from the previous presidential administration.”
“Those are collector’s items,” I defend. “And they taste better with age. Like fine wine or that weird cheese with the mold that probably costs more than my Polaris. ”
“Roquefort,” she supplies. “And yes, it costs more than your Polaris.”
“Luxury wilderness stew,” I say, gesturing to the pot. “Only the finest dehydrated ingredients for Hollywood royalty. If you close your eyes and use your imagination, it’s practically Spago’s.”
“If I close my eyes and use my imagination, I’m eating literally anywhere else,” she counters, but takes the offered spoon. “How considerate,” she drawls, but settles back onto the log. “Though after today, even tree bark sounds appetizing.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I warn. “I know seventeen different ways to prepare bark as food.”
“Of course you do,” she laughs. Her laugh. I find myself listening for it. I shouldn’t. For a moment, the tension of the day’s events fades, and we are two people sharing a joke beside a creek in the wilderness.
But as I glance toward the rising water, I know our journey has become more complicated.
The rain might have stopped, but its effects are still building as runoff continues to feed the creek.
We are cut off from our original route, with a wounded team member and Lena’s re-injured ankle to consider.
For the first time on this trip, concern, sharp and unwelcome, pierces me.
Not only about completing the journey, but about the responsibility of keeping these people safe—especially the woman who’s revealed herself to be far more capable than anyone had given her credit for.
I watch Lena as she looks at the rushing water, her expression thoughtful rather than fearful. Not the Hollywood version, but the real woman. The one who tied those knots and pulled off that rescue like it was second nature.
She catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Finn? ”
“Wondering what other surprises you might be hiding,” I say honestly.
Her expression closes, the vulnerability disappearing behind her mask. “I told you—I’m full of them.”
What she doesn’t say, but what I’m understanding, is that the biggest surprise is the real woman under the act. I need to figure her out.