Chapter 6
6
They would have to hike out of the compound; the sound of a vehicle would wake people up. For that, they needed supplies.
Ruth waited in the cellar while Sarah disappeared back into the longhouse. When she returned, she carried two backpacks filled with food and water, and boots for both of them.
“Did anyone see you?” Ruth whispered.
“I don’t think so. Everyone’s asleep. It’s three in the morning.”
This time of year, it never got fully dark, so at most they’d have predawn grayness in their favor. The longhouse was smack in the middle of the clearing. Could they cross the entire property without being noticed?
“We need to be prepared in case the dogs raise the alarm,” Ruth said in a low voice. “If they go off, we’re going to need a distraction. Something that will draw everyone’s attention.”
“Like what?”
“I’m thinking. All we have to work with is potatoes.” The two of them giggled, and for a moment, all of this seemed like a lark, an adventure. “Did you pack any matches?”
“Of course. Never go anywhere without matches. I also packed a first-aid kit and some toilet paper,” Sarah said proudly. Toilet paper was one of the things they’d begun trading for after Luke left; before that, they’d used leaves and rags.
“We can work with that. I have an idea.”
Who would ever have thought that potatoes and bandages would create the perfect firebomb? Well, maybe not perfect…it took a little practice to get the right amount of bandage wrapped around the potato to create a slow smolder. Once they’d refined their method, they stuffed as many of the little firebombs as they could manage into one of the packs. If they had to do something drastic, they were ready.
Around four, they stole out of the potato cellar, moving like ghosts through the dim, misty morning. No one was awake at this hour, not even the roosters or, lucky for them, the dogs.
They crept across the expanse of scrub grass and gravel toward the forest’s edge, the most dense and mossy part of it, with a creek not far away. If they could make it to those woods, they’d have a good chance of disappearing.
Every moment felt like a year as they tiptoed through the grass, barely daring to breathe for fear of waking the dogs. As they passed the men’s dorm, giving it as wide a berth as possible, Ruth’s nose wrinkled. A strange aroma drifted from it, something she’d only smelled at The Fang before. Was someone drinking alcohol on Chilkoot property? To her knowledge, that had never happened before. Chilkoots never drank. Her first glass of wine at The Fang had been a major act of rebellion. Maybe the new men moving in didn’t have to follow the same rules.
When they were still at least a hundred yards away from the forest, with only an old storage shed between them and freedom, the sharp bark of a dog shattered the quiet. It was Grump, the most unfriendly of the pit bulls. They froze, waiting to see if he’d sensed something was going on and would trot out to investigate.
“Should we just keep going?” Sarah whispered.
Ruth chewed on her lower lip. If the dog kept barking, someone would wake up, and if they let the Grump out, he’d chase after them. A fire would keep everyone occupied, but it was risky too. It would take precious time, and draw attention.
But the dogs were already awake. Two of them were now barking, and soon all would be.
“Come on, hurry.” She ran to the shed, which had been used for ammo before the FBI confiscated everything. It was set apart from the other structures, so there would be no chance of catching anything else on fire.
Part of her wanted to see that shed in flames. It was dangerous, and the contents had wreaked havoc on their lives.
Three dogs were now barking. Crap. They had to make it seem like the dogs were barking about the fire, not two runaways.
She flung open the door, happy to see a layer of dry straw covering the floor. Sarah grabbed a potato firebomb from her backpack and handed it to Ruth. They’d already agreed that Ruth would do the actual deed, so she’d suffer the punishment if they were caught.
Ruth lit the wick and they both held their breath as a flame flared to life. The wicks were made of twists of toilet paper, which were then tucked into the bandages which were wrapped tightly around the potatoes.
When the bandage was at a full smolder, Ruth tossed the potato onto the floor.
“Keep them coming,” she murmured. “In case some of them blow out on the way.”
They kept lighting and tossing potatoes, until flames licked up the side of the wall.
“That’s it. Let’s go.” Ruth hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders, ignoring the pain from the lashes.
A shout sounded from the direction of the men’s dorm, nearly drowned out by the howling of the dogs.
They ran at full speed into the deepest part of the forest. Ducking under branches and around thick tree trunks, they headed for the creek, which was still running high due to the melt-off of the winter’s snow.
At the creek, they paused only to pull up their skirts, then waded across the icy torrent. If the dogs followed their scent, this was where they’d lose it.
On the other side, they didn’t stop to wring the water out of their clothes. They followed the creek, which would take them to Snow River, from where they could pick up a trail that led to town.
After that? Ruth was still cogitating about that.
When they’d gone about two miles, they stopped to give their socks a chance to dry out and to fuel up with some snacks. Fifteen miles lay ahead. Fifteen miles of hiking through spruce and birch woods, alder brush, and the occasional meadow dotted with wild geranium and lupine.
“Are you okay?” Ruth asked Sarah as she doled out apples and cheese.
“I’m great.” A quick glance told her that Sarah hadn’t exaggerated. Her little sister’s face was streaked with dirt from the potato cellar and scratched by spruce twigs, but she’d never looked more excited.
“Me too.” Ruth grinned, allowing herself a moment of sheer exhilaration that they were doing this. “Know something funny? My favorite way to eat potatoes has always been roasting them in a firepit.”
It seemed they might never stop laughing, but eventually they did. They put on their socks and boots and kept walking. And walking. And walking. Until the low whine of an ATV made them stop in their tracks.
“It’s coming closer,” Ruth murmured.
“Do you think it’s them?”
“I don’t know.”
Sarah darted toward a clearing where she might be able to hear better, then stumbled and let out a shriek of pain.
Ruth ran to her side, where she saw with horror that Sarah’s foot was caught in a snare set by a trapper.
Had she really thought they could escape that easily?