Chapter 19
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Piper kneels beside me and helps brush away more snow. It’s hard to see, but there are clear indentations from a small boot, along with paw prints.
“He did go this way!” she cries.
“Most likely, but there’s no guarantee.” I take out my phone to check for a signal.
Nothing. “Do you have any coverage?”
She shakes her head at her phone. “This is one of those times when Hideaway’s lousy cell coverage is definitely a problem.”
“Why don’t you run back and tell everyone what we’ve found?”
“No way. Most people have already gone in the opposite direction, and I don’t want to risk them not believing me. If he did go this way, you might need help to get him out. I’m going with you.”
I nod and help her to her feet. “Okay. I’ll go first in case there’s any ice. Walk slowly and steadily behind me. Small steps, and keep your eyes fixed on a point up ahead.”
My heart is thumping painfully in my throat as I set off along the trunk. I might not die if I slip and fall, but I’d most likely break both legs.
And the same goes for Piper …
The snow crunches under my feet as I inch my way forward. I know it’s safe if I stay on the center line, but I’m petrified I’m going to hear a cry behind me as she slips and falls.
At the spot where the tree has crashed onto the other side of the gorge, I grab a snow-covered branch and turn, extending my hand to draw Piper toward me. Her face is ghost-white.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
We scramble through the branches down to the ground, and I scan for tracks, brushing aside the layer of freshly fallen snow until I find what I’m looking for.
“How did you know what to do?” Piper asks as we run through the trees toward the mountain. “Did you learn this on The Tracker Man?”
We come to an area where Billy might have gone in a different direction, so I lean down to sweep the new snow away until I find where his tracks lead.
“You saw that?”
She gives me a look, then points at herself. “Google Alert and your number one fan?”
Despite the cold, heat rushes to my cheeks. I love you so much.
I clear my throat. “Uh, yes. I did a ton of research and got really into the skills trackers have.” I point at the boot print. “So, we know he went this way.”
We run on, and after a few yards, arrive at a clearing. I know immediately something’s not right. There’s a branch, the length of a sword, lying on the ground with only a thin covering of snow on it. Nearby, almost obscured, I can make out—
“Oh, my God, is that blood?” Piper cries.
I fall to my knees, brushing the snow away. The red is vivid against the white.
My heart is racing, and sweat trickles down my back as I move the fresh snow away and try not to freak out, talking out loud as I notice things.
“There’s another set of tracks … animal … coyote, probably … It looks like only one, but it was all over Lucky. Billy must have grabbed the branch to fend it off. Can you see if there’s any more blood that way?”
Piper dashes through the trees, and I follow, brushing away snow as I go to make sure we’re heading in the right direction.
“Brody!” she yells. “This way!”
I run to her side.
“Why didn’t Billy just head back home?” she asks as we rush on.
“I guess Lucky bolted, and he ran after her,” I reply, praying that they went in a straight line.
Ahead is a creek. When we reach it, my heart plummets.
“What is it? What can you see?”
I point at the ice forming at the edges. “See how it’s broken here and on the other side? They went this way.”
“It’s not deep, though. They should be okay, right?”
“Not deep for us, but for a seven-year-old and a puppy who’s low to the ground? And the ice on this side is much more damaged. One of them might have fallen in.”
I look at Piper’s snow boots. Like mine, they rise halfway up her calf.
“We can’t afford to get wet ourselves,” I say. “I’ll go first.”
I don’t wait for her to reply, stepping carefully into the creek and choosing a path where the water runs quickest, where it’s shallowest.
“You doing okay?” I call over my shoulder.
“Peachy!”
We make it safely to the other side, and I bellow Billy’s name as loud as I can, then wait for an answer.
I don’t get one.
Piper grabs my gloved hands as my fear spirals out of control.
“Brody! Look at me! Breathe with me.”
Holding her gaze, I claw myself out of the panic. Her eyes are my focal point. My anchor.
“You’ve got this, Brody. You can find them. I know you can.”
I let out a shuddering breath and give her a nod.
“Okay,” she says. “Where next?”
I figure out which way they went, and we race on, pausing every few strides to yell Billy’s name.
There’s a big tree up ahead, its branches heavy with snow reaching all the way to the ground. If I was a little kid and wanted to make a den, I’d choose there.
I dash forward and lift the lowest branch.
Thank fuck.
“Brody?” Billy asks, his voice faint.
I nod. “We’ve got you, buddy. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Piper drops to her knees beside me and lets out a gasp when she sees Billy. He’s shivering, and his face is so pale it’s almost blue. His coat is around a young golden retriever, who’s whining and licking his hand.
“Okay, bud, we’re going to get you both out of here, but you need to tell me real quick what happened and who’s hurt.”
“We went to find a yeti. In the cave.”
“Yep, figured as much, but what went wrong?” I try not to let my fear show, but he needs to cut to the chase.
“There was a coyote. He attacked Lucky.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“I found a stick and chased him off.”
Okay, so Billy’s not hurt. “Did you both fall into the creek?”
“Lucky did when she ran away, and then I did too when I was helping her.”
Billy’s trousers are soaked, and as I touch them, they crack where they’ve frozen.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, buddy. We need to get you to safety, but we also need to get you warm,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Now, this might sound a little strange, but I need you to trust me. I’m going to get you out of your wet clothes, then I’ll give you my socks, my shirt, and my sweater, and carry you out of here under my coat. ”
“I’m not leaving without Lucky.”
“Can she walk on her own?”
“I don’t think so anymore.”
Fuck! “Then I’ll carry you both.”
“What can I do to help?” Piper asks.
“Carry all his wet clothes,” I say, ripping off my coat, sweater, and shirt. The shirt is soaked with sweat, so it’s no good for him to wear.
“Brody?” Billy asks, his voice so shaky I can feel another panic attack coming on.
“Yes, bud?”
“Grandpa says if you’re cold, you should take your clothes off and cuddle someone in a sleeping bag.”
Even in this dire situation, the corner of my mouth still twitches.
“So, give your sweater to L-Lucky, and I’ll just wear my b-briefs,” he continues.
“You don’t have a fur coat like she does so I want you to wear it. Okay?”
He nods and tries to undress.
“Let me help,” Piper says. “I’m Piper, by the way.”
He nods. “You were at the library.”
“Sure was.”
As soon as Billy is out of his wet clothes and into my sweater, socks and gloves, I pull him out of the hollow and against my chest. Then Piper drapes my coat over his back and ties the sleeves behind me.
Lucky is now on her feet, whining.
“There’s blood on her neck and back leg,” Piper says to me.
I nod. I need to see if she can walk without my help, so I set off back the way we came.
“Come on, Lucky!” Piper says as she makes a ball of Billy’s belongings and follows me.
Lucky limps forward after us. It’s not fast, but it’ll have to do.
We move as quickly as we can back to the creek, stopping at the edge.
“I can carry Lucky, I think,” Piper says.
“No. If she wriggles, you’ll both fall.”
I’m reminded of that old riddle, the one where a man has to get a chicken, a fox, and a bag of corn across a river in a boat that can only carry two at a time, without leaving the chicken alone with the corn or the fox with the chicken.
“Does Lucky have a leash in your bag?” I ask Billy.
He nods.
“Tie Lucky up to that tree so she doesn’t try to follow,” I say. “Then we’ll both cross the creek. I’ll give Billy to you, then go back and carry Lucky across.”
“Got it.”
Piper ties up Lucky, who is now barking, not wanting to be separated from us, then follows me across the stream.
I swaddle Billy the best I can in my coat, and Piper holds him in her lap as I go back for Lucky.
The pup trembles violently as I carry her across the freezing river.
I can’t lose her. I can’t lose Billy. So I draw on every ounce of strength I have left and keep going.
I thought all the hours in the gym were for health and looking good on camera.
I never thought this would be the scenario where it really mattered.
On the other side I put Lucky down and take Billy back into my arms. He’s quiet as we start moving again, and the stages of hypothermia go through my mind. I’ve got to keep him conscious. I’ve got to keep him talking.
“Billy! Stay awake, buddy.”
“I’m so tired.”
“I know, bud, but staying awake is the most important thing you can do for me right now. It’s part of the mission.”
“It is?”
“One hundred percent. You may not have found a yeti this time, but you’ve had one hell of an adventure, and you know what that means?”
“No.”
“The story about it has to be even bigger. Even wilder.”
I’m exhausted, and the snow seems deeper with every step. I’m out of breath, but I can’t stop talking. Billy feels like ice against my chest, and it terrifies me.
“So, guess what the coyote becomes?”
“I don’t know.”
“A bear! Come on, Billy, you gotta think big!”
“Brody!”
I turn to see Lucky on the ground, not moving.
Piper drops the bundle of Billy’s clothes and knapsack, then lifts the dog into her arms with a grunt.
“Can you manage the weight?”
“Just about,” she replies, staggering forward.
“The gorge is just up ahead. We’ll do what we did at the creek, okay?”
“Yep!”