37 - Kodiak
37
Kodiak
—
The next morning, Leo and I prepare to leave with Sirena.
The overcast sky slants a gray hue over the island, killing the mood. But rising to meet the dread is an urgent hunger for the hunt.
The instant I don my crossbow, it feels like an extension of my spine. Leo stands beside me, his rifle held with the ease of a man accustomed to its weight.
This is merely a scouting mission. We don’t expect to run into trouble, but if we do, the pilot, James, is retired military and combat-trained.
With our gear strapped to our backs, Leo and I are ready to plunge back into the heart of our past. This time, we’re stronger, sharper, and better equipped with technology to make it out of there alive.
And we won’t be alone.
Frankie stands on the dock, her red hair catching in the warm breeze. She’s brave, braver than most, and hides her fear well. But I hear it in her hoarse rasp, her words frayed at the edges, as she talks to Leo.
“Take care of yourself.” He kisses her mouth, his tongue delving deeply and aggressively, making Monty’s face turn lava red. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She steps back, swallowing hard. “Both of you. Just…come back to me.”
“Forever.”
I press my way in, cupping her face. “Love you, too.”
“We’ve done this too many times.” She smiles up at me, the corners of her mouth quivering. “Saying goodbye to you never gets easier.”
“It isn’t easy because we have something worth holding onto. I’ll carry it with me until we’re together again.”
My hand, rough and calloused, traces a path along her jaw. I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look into my eyes. There’s a moment, a heartbeat of hesitation, where the world tilts, holding its breath. Then, like a tempest breaking free, our mouths collide.
My tongue follows the seam of her lips, coaxing them open and diving into the sweet, intoxicating warmth within. She tangles her hands in my hair, pulling me closer, fearing the moment I’ll slip away.
The kiss deepens, turning from a feverish exchange to a slow, agonizing goodbye.
When we finally break apart, gasping for air, the world rights itself. I rest my forehead against hers, and the shadows recede, leaving only the raw, undeniable truth of our connection.
Every kiss with her is the greatest of all time, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s ours. We defy fate, laugh in the face of destiny, and bind our souls in a way that nothing and no one can ever sever.
And now, I must leave her in the hands of Monty.
I trust her, and I trust the bond we share, but her history with him looms large.
“Monty will take care of you,” I force myself to say.
She juts her chin, her green eyes locking onto mine. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
“That’s my girl.”
Moments later, the boat pulls away from the dock. I lean against the taffrail, watching her, a solitary figure standing resolute against the encroaching fog.
Slowly, the island fades into the distance, a sanctuary and a prison all at once.
She’s trapped there, unable to go anywhere until the stalker is caught. While I never hear her complain, I know she’s miserable. The thought of her suffering while we’re out searching claws at my heart.
Forcing myself to turn away, I focus on the journey ahead.
We dock in Sitka, take a car to the small airport, and soon enough, we’re airborne, the bush plane vibrating with the energy of our mission.
Leo pilots with the ease of a seasoned aviator, though James keeps a watchful eye.
The rugged landscape below unfolds in greens and browns, interspersed with the glinting silver of rivers.
Seated beside me, Sirena manages the details with calm efficiency despite the tension thrumming through all of us.
Her maps and documentation are spread out before us, but it’s our memories that we’ll rely on most. Every ridge, every valley, every shadow will be scrutinized for any sign of familiarity.
Three hours into the flight, my headspace is a tangled mess.
Is Wolf out there? Dead? Alive? Will we find him? What shape will he be in? My mind goes to a dark place.
I thought I was ready, but truthfully, I’ll never be ready to see my brother’s lifeless body. And that’s precisely what we’re looking for. His remains, scattered bits of him, pieces of clothing, footprints or DNA left behind by whoever took that photo.
We need to find the location where the picture was taken. It could point us to tracks from the tires of a plane touching down nearby. Or a helicopter. A snow machine. Some sort of vehicle was used to reach that gorge.
Amid the drone of the plane’s engines and the hum of anticipation, Leo navigates with intense focus. Beside him, James scans the landscape, waiting for his turn to take over the controls.
“You know…” Sirena turns those vulpine blue eyes on me, bending in and strangling my airway with her perfume. “Something about these missions really gets the blood pumping.”
What are the rules about slapping a woman? Not a punch. Just a stinging, warning slap across the face?
I keep my eyes on the window as tension coils in my muscles.
Her long braid brushes against my arm. “You should let me take you out when we get back. Blow off some steam.”
“Not interested.” I glance at Leo, who clenches the yoke tighter than necessary.
He can hear us through the headset but doesn’t look my way.
“So serious.” She pokes my bicep. “A little fun wouldn’t hurt.”
“What did I fucking say about touching me?”
“Sirena,” Leo cuts in, his voice a cold blade. “Focus on the mission.”
A huff bursts from her nostrils, and she shakes her head, leaning back in her seat.
James’s voice crackles over the headset. “Approaching the grid. Eyes open.”
I scan the horizon, searching for any sign of recognition. How will we identify anything from this angle? I know the hills by scent, the feel of the land beneath my boots, and the sounds of water and ice.
Ten minutes later, the rugged terrain begins to look familiar, a patchwork of memories stitched together with pain and hope.
A river gorge catches my eye, a serpentine scar in the earth. Something about it stirs dread deep within me.
“There.” I point at it. “That ridge looks familiar.”
Leo nods, handing off the controls to focus on the landscape.
James guides the plane lower, circling until we find a suitable spot to land.
The wheels touch down with a jolt, and we disembark into the crisp air.
August in the Arctic Circle offers a brief reprieve from the biting cold, the scenery awash in vibrant hues.
We spread out, methodically searching the area. The gorge’s rocky walls rise around us, imposing and silent, just like I remembered. The river snakes through it, the water clear and refreshing, reflecting the sky’s endless blue.
“Kody, look.” Leo crouches by the riverbank, his head cocked, staring at the primrose.
And the Arctic Blue butterflies.
They flit around his face, their delicate wings both beautiful and haunting, conjuring memories of Wolf.
“I’ve seen them all over the Brooks Range.” Sirena walks past, as oblivious to our pain as the butterflies. “Does anything look familiar?”
All of it.
None of it.
“Hard to tell.” I scrutinize the area, the bend in the river, the jut of the cliffs, my eyes narrowing as I try to piece together fragments of memories. “Everything looks different in the summer.”
“We need to cover as much ground as possible.” James stands a few feet away, his gaze on the horizon. “Let’s split up but stay within sight of each other.”
“Want to partner up?” Sirena sidles up to Leo. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
“Nope.” Leo doesn’t even look up.
She sighs dramatically, turning to me. “What about you, Kody?”
“Same answer.”
With a shrug, she heads downriver with her equipment.
I share a look with Leo.
Don’t turn your back on that one.
He nods and moves deeper into the gorge.
As the delicate wings of the butterflies flutter around me, I can almost see Wolf here, a ghost among the living.
Leo and I hike along the river, side by side, scenting the air and listening to the wind.
The midnight sun blurs the passage of time, its unrelenting light allowing us to push ourselves to the brink.
But as the hours pass and the miles drain the last of our energy, the landscape becomes increasingly unfamiliar. The initial sense of recognition fades, replaced by frustration and exhaustion.
No one has been here. No tracks. No signs of human life. Not in the past year. Maybe not ever.
“This isn’t right.” Leo pauses, tangling a hand in his hair. “None of this feels right.”
I nod, the truth of his words settling in my gut. “This isn’t our gorge.”
James signals for us to regroup and gather our gear. As we make our way back to the plane, I take one last look at the river.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I didn’t expect the first failure to sit so heavily in my chest.
That’s what hope does. It crushes.
We wasted an entire day because of me. Because I picked the wrong fucking gorge.
How many more gorges will we hike? How many more days will we be separated from Frankie?
Too many.
Deep in my bones, I know this will take time, endurance, and patience.
Naturally, my mood is shit. The flight back to Fairbanks sucks, and luckily for Sirena, she has enough self-preservation to stay the fuck away from me.
We sleep in a cabin in Fairbanks, refueling the plane and our spirits, only to start again the next morning.
The search is relentless, and every day brings more of the same. A familiar landmark, hours of hiking, return to Fairbanks, rinse, and repeat.
Each night, we check in with Monty using the satellite equipment. The connection crackles, a lifeline to civilization we never had before. It’s my favorite part of every day.
“Monty.” I adjust the receiver. “Any updates on your end?”
“Nothing new here.” His voice comes through, steady and composed. “Wilson is still narrowing down the suspect list. How’s the search going?”
“Slow.” I glance at Leo, who’s pacing the small cabin. “The terrain is more challenging than we anticipated. But we’re not giving up.”
“Good. Keep pushing. I wish I were with you.”
“How’s she doing?”
“You can ask her yourself. Hang on.” The sound of footsteps on wood flooring scrapes through the connection, followed by the creak of a door. “Frankie?”
A moment later, her soft lilt brushes my ears. “Kody? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. We’re safe. Just checking in.”
Leo grabs the phone, his voice gentler than I’ve heard in days. “Hey, love. How are you holding up?” He listens, nods, and exchanges a glance with me. “We’re doing everything we can. Just stay safe. We love you, too.”
As the call ends, the cabin falls silent.
This feeling in my chest…I don’t know how to process it or what to call it. The throbbing, twisting hollowness of it hits me the hardest at night after hearing Frankie’s voice.
I think I’m homesick. I don’t miss the island or Sitka or any specific place. I miss her.
“I’m ready to go home,” I mutter. “Back to her.”
“I know.” He slumps beside me on the bed. “Me, too.”
The next few days blur into a monotonous cycle of searching and refueling. Each day, we push ourselves further, scouring a new section of the grid under the glare of the endless midnight sun.
Despite our exhaustion, we take time each night to connect with Monty and Frankie before crashing into bone-tired sleep.
As the week draws to a close, our spirits are battered but unbroken.
We have yet to find anything. No trace of Wolf. No hint of Hoss. But the search isn’t over. As long as the sun burns in the sky, we’ll keep looking. For Wolf, for Frankie, for the answers that continue to elude us.
Finally, we return to Sitka. As I step off the plane, the island beckoning in the distance, I know one thing for certain.
We’ll find him. We owe him that much and more.
The hunt isn’t over. Not by a long shot.