chapter Eight
Allison awoke to the feeling that she had eaten a huge chunk of cotton wool and most of it was still clinging to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. A dehydrating sun blazed down, filtered from her face by a circular fabric dome.
She tried to raise her arms but found she was swaddled in something soft that would have been too warm if it had not been for a coolness at her back. And she was moving, gliding backward, to the sound of moving water.
What happened? Where am I? Frantic, she wrenched against her restraints. The Tilly hat that had served as a blind fell from her face.
“Easy. You’ll upset us.” His voice stopped her struggles.
Hands gripped her shroud, pulling her to a sitting position. Half blinded by a mid-morning sun, she faced a dark silhouette topped with a Snowy River hat. As her vision returned, she recognized him. She was in a canoe caught in the current of a fast-flowing river with the last man on earth she wanted to be anywhere with. A wilderness of forest covered both banks.
“Oh, my God! What have you done? Where are we?” she rasped out the words, then coughed and grimaced. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her head drummed a pounding ache.
“Headed down the North Passage,” he said. “Here.” He reached under his seat and pulled out a canteen. “You need a drink…of water.”
He unscrewed the cap as she managed to free her arms from the sleeping bag. When he extended the container toward her, she snatched it from his hand. Throwing back her head, she gobbled. The ice cold water was the best she’d ever tasted.
“Easy,” he said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
When she ignored his advice, he wrenched it out of her hands.
“Give it back!” She lunged at him. Hobbled by the sleeping bag, she stumbled headlong into him. The canoe rolled, sides all but dipping below water level with each lurch.
“Do something!” Allison grabbed the gunwales. “We’re going to upset!”
“Sit quiet.” He shoved her back into sitting position, grabbed his paddle, and, with a few deft strokes, stabilized the craft.
“What have you done?” When they were once more moving smoothly down the river, she stared at the water and wilderness that surrounded them.
“I’ve shanghaied you.” He put aside his paddle, picked up the canteen, and took a swallow before recapping it.
“Kidnapped, you mean.” Outrage surmounted all her previous emotions.
“No, shanghaied.” He plunged his paddle deep, sending the canoe to the right to avoid a rock. “You’ll be working your passage.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. And for future reference, what did you do while I was out cold?” she raged.
“Loaded you into a sleeping bag and this canoe.” He kept his eyes focused over her head, at the river beyond. “Check your clothes if you’re concerned. I’ve never been turned on by an inebriated woman.”
“I was not inebriated, you backstreet slim. Ouch!” Her outburst brought on a pounding ache above her eyes. She caught her head between her hands. “Take me back to the Lodge right now! Otherwise, I’ll have you charged with kidnapping!”
“Really? I’m shaking in my boots. You’ll feel better after you’ve had a couple of aspirin and some lunch.”
“Don’t you dare laugh at me!” She clenched her fists and sucked in her lips. “I’m deadly serious!”
“Well, then, that’s too bad. Because I can’t take you back. We’re a good six miles downriver from the Lodge, deep into roadless wilderness, and with the force of the freshet that’s pushing us, a superhero couldn’t paddle us back upstream.” He dipped his paddle deep and nosed the canoe to the left.
“Hang on,” he ordered. “We’re heading into rapids.”
Allison glanced over her shoulder just in time to be hit full in the face with the spray from the first wave of white froth. She gasped and swung back on Heath, water running down her cheeks, ready to yell more incriminations. His expression stopped her. Mind and body, he was concentrated on controlling their craft over the turbulence.
Through the next few minutes that seemed like a lifetime, the canoe bucked over rapids and skittered around protruding rocks like a thing possessed. All she could do was cling to the sides and give thanks she was seated backwards and couldn’t see what was coming next. The only comfort she could find was in remembering Heath was a veteran canoeist—one of the best, her grandfather had told her.
When they finally reached the calmer waters of a pool on the far side, she slumped against the back of the canoe’s front bench.
“I thought…I thought we were going to capsize,” she choked, feeling overwhelmed by the situation. Suddenly her stomach revolted. She leaned over the side and retched. Oh, God, is it possible to feel more miserable?
“We’re okay, and we’ll be okay.” His voice was calm, reassuring. “You got a little wet, that’s all. It was my fault. We wouldn’t have hit that white water at the angle we did if I’d been paying attention. We’ll go to shore, you can freshen up, and I’ll make lunch. Strong coffee, a couple of aspirin, a sandwich, and fresh clothes will make that hangover a lot better.”
“Where’s Jack?” The thought hit her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What have you done with Jack?”
“He’s a great dog, but hardly a wilderness type. I put him in the care of the couple of guys I’ve left manning Chance Lodge. His dog-sitters are both dyed-in-the-wool canine fanciers. He’ll be fine.”
He swung the prow of the canoe shoreward. In a few minutes, Allison was standing on the riverbank and realizing for the first time she still wore the jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers she’d put on twenty-four hours earlier. Only now they were wet and rumpled, and she felt sweaty and dirty and all out grungy.
She watched as Heath pulled the canoe well above the waterline, noted the knife in a scabbard at his belt, and shivered. While she might pity him as the underprivileged teenager he’d once been, she realized he was also the adult version of a child so consumed with rage against the affluent he’d led police on a life-and-death car chase.
“Here.” He threw her a waterproof packsack. “There’s a spring about fifty yards back in the trees, over to the left. You can wash up and change. You’ll find everything you need in the bag. Jesse got it ready.”
“It seems Dr. Henderson did a great deal toward arranging this voyage of the damned,” she muttered, reaching for the pack and feeling her head pound as she straightened up. “I bet she signed Gramps’ death certificate, too, and recommended no autopsy.”
“She did.” Heath turned from his task and looked at her, squinting in the sunlight. “Under New Brunswick law, none is required in cases like Jack’s, where he’d been under a physician’s care for a serious illness that obviously was the cause of death, unless the family requests one and pays for it. Your father and mother didn’t see any need for one under those circumstances. By the way, you’ll find aspirin in there for that hangover.”
“Hangover! I’m not hung over! I’m…”
“Go.”
She could only attempt to glare at him, hampered by the sun behind him glinting on the sparkling water and making her eyes hurt and her head ache even harder. With a disgruntled mutter, she turned and headed off in the direction he’d indicated for the spring.
When she reached the place where crystal-clean water bubbled out of a hillside, she knelt and splashed handfuls over her hot face. Blessed relief. Then she turned and opened the valise. Inside she was amazed to find toiletries and spanking new clothing appropriate to wilderness travel.
Several white T-shirts, three plaid flannel shirts, three pair of bush pants, a leather belt, a down-filled vest, a weatherproof jacket with a hood, both cotton and woolen socks, a pair of hiking boots, a package of feminine hygiene products, and even some highly practical underwear had been carefully packed into the sack. Mildred Wilson had racked up an excellent sale yesterday.
Digging deep, she discovered shampoo, toothpaste and toothbrush, soap, a brush and comb, and even deodorant nestled in a plastic bag wrapped in a towel and face cloth.
First needs first. She uncapped the aspirin, popped a couple into her mouth, then cupped her hands, filled them with spring water, and washed the pills down her throat.
Lord, I feel grungy. She glanced about at the spring’s surroundings. Secluded by a circle of close-growing alders, it offered privacy of a sort. Although she loathed him, she knew Heath Oakes was no sexual predator. Hadn’t he had a perfect opportunity when she’d—she shuddered to admit it—passed out from too much of that potent wine? And being a peeping Tom definitely wasn’t his style.
She pulled off her sweaty, rumpled clothes. Bathing every inch of her aching, weary body in fresh, pure, albeit icy water would revive her. Naked, she began to wash.
Twenty minutes later she was feeling much better. As she pulled the vest over the plaid shirt, with the white T-shirt peeping out at its throat, she couldn’t help grinning. In this getup even Myra wouldn’t recognize her. She brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her damp hair, and hefted her packsack, ready to return to their campsite.
A twig snapped in the bush to her left.
She whirled but saw only a thicket budding into leaf. Nothing stirred. But no birds sang, either. Jack had taught her that kind of silence in the bush wasn’t good.
An eerie feeling wafted over her. She felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Was it a bear? A ravenous, fresh-out-of-hibernation bear looking for food, any kind of food? Or was it maybe that weird being she and Marty Mason had glimpsed on their way to the Chance?
Bear. It had to be a bear. There were no such creatures as sasquatches. Remembering her grandfather’s first rule of bear defense, she eased off her Tilly hat and whirled it toward the spot from which the sound had issued. Then she turned and raced back to where she’d left Heath.
She ran full tilt into him as he arose from lighting the camp stove. With a grunt, he caught her in his arms.
“What happened?” he asked. When she could only gasp and point back into the bush, he shook her. “What happened?”
“Bear!” she gasped.
“Did you see it?” His hand went to the knife at his belt.
“No…no. I heard it…in the bush.”
“Oh.” He released her and turned back to the stove.
“Oh, right!” She began to get her breath back enough to be angry. “Silly city girl wouldn’t know a bear if she fell over it.”
“If it were a bear, you wouldn’t have heard it.” He adjusted the gas as a flame leaped up. “I’ve seen a four-hundred-pounder move as silently as a shadow.”
“But no birds were singing!”
“What?” He snapped around to face her.
“No birds were singing. Gramps always said that meant a predator was near.”
“I’m glad you remember one of Jack’s lessons. What did you do after you decided it was a bear? Run?”
“Of course not. Not until I threw my hat in his direction to give him something to sniff and me a head start.”
“You did listen to Jack.” Satisfaction brightened his tone.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Exasperation overpowered fear. “Aren’t you going to investigate? Aren’t you going to…”
“Take on a bear with a knife, a hatchet, and a can of pepper spray? They’re the only weapons I have. I’m not that heroic. I’ll go back and get your hat after we eat. You’ll be needing it. By that time, whatever you heard will be gone.”
“Ahhhhh!” She plunked herself down on the shore and clasped her hands on top of her head. He was the most frustrating creature she’d ever met. And that included several green-broke horses.
“Those clothes fit pretty good.” He glanced over at her as he put coffee on to brew. “For only having met you once, Jess did a great job of sizing you up. You smell nice, too. Guess she has good taste in whatever that stuff is.”
“You arranged all this yesterday when you went to town, didn’t you? The roses were only a ploy to soften me up, to get me to trust you, and drink that Harvey Wallbanger of a wine.”
“Elderberry.” A smirk curled one corner of his mouth. “If you had been familiar with wine made from local berries, you might have taken it a little easier.”
“Oh, and that fact lessens your culpability?” She rested her back against a log and stretched her legs out in front of her.
“No.” He took a couple of sandwiches out of a plastic container, put them into a frying pan, and set it on the stove’s second burner. “But it does explain why I had only a couple of glasses and managed to stay awake. Careful, that’s hot.” He stopped her as she reached for the coffeepot.
“I’m so thirsty and hungry I could swallow molten lava,” she said but drew back and waited for him to serve her the coffee in a tin mug, along with the toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich on a plastic plate. She took a sip of the steaming brew, bit into the sandwich, then closed her eyes and munched in ecstasy.
“Mmmmmm,” she moaned with pleasure. “Food from the gods couldn’t taste any better.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He joined her against the log, his own coffee and sandwich in hand. “But there is a special something about food cooked and eaten in the outdoors. Especially after a fifteen-hour fast.”
“Fifteen hours? What time it is? How long did I sleep?”
“It’s shortly after noon. You only slept a few hours, Rip Van Winkle. Don’t worry. You haven’t aged perceptibly.”
“Clever, aren’t you?” She paused in wolfing down her lunch and glared at him. “As soon as I’ve finished eating, I plan to start walking back to the Lodge. All I have to do is follow the river.”‘
“And cross two ravines with freshet-flooded streams and temperatures so cold they will kill anyone foolish enough to try to cross them at this time of year.” He replenished his cup and hers. “Hypothermia isn’t a pleasant way to go.”
“So I’m trapped here…with you?”
“Looks like it.” He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug.
“Well, don’t expect any romantic moments, buddy!” She stacked her cup and plate beside him and leaned back against the log. “Not if you were the last man on earth and the human race were about to become extinct.”
“Fine by me.” He gathered her dishes with his and stood. “All I want you to do is enjoy the ride, drink in the ambience, and allow yourself to develop an appreciation for the surroundings. You can get started while I pack up our gear.”
Allison drew a deep breath of clear, cool spring air lightly flavored with the scents of burgeoning greenery. Just this once it wouldn’t hurt to do as he instructed.
Maples and birches, their buds already beginning to fan out with the promise of new leaves, surrounded their landing site. Riverside ferns and grasses, too, were becoming verdant with rebirth. Even the alders along the riverbank in places still flooded with the freshet showed promise of renewed life. Swinging with cavalier devil-may-care joy from a nearby branch white-furred with p-ssywillows, a red-winged blackbird burst into song.
The May sun warmed her, the utter peace of her surroundings lulled her. High-rise offices, pressure-cooker meetings, heels, tailored business suits, spa and hair appointments, and incessantly ringing phones slid from her mind. She relaxed and dozed.
****
She jerked awake to see Heath had unpacked the canoe and set up a tent. A fire crackled inside a circle of rocks near the river’s edge. As she scrambled to her feet, he straightened from adding a log to it.
In the twilight, silhouetted against the primitive force of the river’s wild rush, he was an imposing figure, tall, muscular, and lithe, a true man of the wilderness. He made her pulses speed, her solar plexus tighten.
“We’re staying here?” She suppressed a shiver. The sun had disappeared behind the trees across the river, leaving a distinct chill in the air.
“It’s as good a place as any we’ll find for a few miles,” he said. “And since you slept most of the day away…”
“You could have awakened me!” she snapped, rubbing her arms. “Now it will take us even longer to get to the end of this miserable voyage.”
“The longer I keep you out here, the better the chances you’ll start to appreciate all this. You’re cold and cranky. Come over by the fire. It will help the first part.”
“I am not crank…” Allison caught herself. How childish can I sound?
“Fine. Stay where you are.” He hunkered down beside the fire and stirred it to new heights with a stick.
She hesitated, shivered again, then, feeling a strange moth-to-the-flame apprehension, moved to join him.
“It’s peaceful here.” She sat down beside him. “Even with the river at full flood.”
“Glad you noticed.” He quirked her a grin, and this time it wasn’t sardonic.
“It’s been years since I’ve seen a bonfire.” With a sigh, she rested her chin on arms braced against her bent knees as she gazed into the flames. Serenity slid over her.
“Damn it!” She snapped out of it and rounded on him. “Did you slip something into my coffee at noon?”
“If you have to attribute your pleasure in the moment to drugs, I’m wasting my time.”
He stood and strode toward the trees into the deepening shadows. When he vanished from sight, Allison felt a surge of panic. Where is he going? What if he never comes back? What if he’s leaving me to die in the wilderness? Have I insulted him once too often? Oh, God, what have I done?
Breathe, breathe. If he’d been planning to leave me, he could have done it while I was asleep. She glanced at the dark outline of the canoe and realized leaving her wasn’t in his plans. He wouldn’t desert her without taking the canoe.
What was that? She swung toward the place where he’d vanished into the forest.
He emerged out of the shadows, a package of wieners, a bag of rolls, a tube of mustard, a sack of marshmallows, and two bottles of lime soda in his arms.
“I put our coolers up in the trees a few yards away.” He squatted by the fire and spread out the food. “They’ve got tight covers and shouldn’t attract bears. Still, there’s no point in inviting them up to our tent.”
“Lime?” She gazed at the bottles of her favorite soda.
“You loved the stuff. I couldn’t understand why. After you left, I’d drink a bottle every once in a while to see what there was to like about it. Eventually, I acquired a taste.”
“Really?” The man was nothing if not full of surprises.
“Yeah, really.” There was no warmth in his tone. When he pulled the knife from its scabbard at his belt, she gasped.
“Look, what I said earlier about your drugging my lunch…” She fell back, away from him.
“Take it easy.” He checked its blade against his finger. “I’m going to cut a couple of dogwood branches to use as roasting sticks. Hell, you really do have a sick opinion of me.”
“You did get me drunk, you did kidnap me…”
“Shanghaied. There’s a difference, remember. You’ll be free to do whatever you wish at the end of the voyage, no ransom required.”
“Whatever. Furthermore, you’re the last person to see my grandfather alive, you’ve profited handsomely from his death, and you’d be only too happy to get rid of a business partner who doesn’t share your future plans for that inheritance. My mother will be furious when she finds out what you’ve done!”
“She knows.” Satisfied with the knife’s sharpness, he returned it to its sheath.
“Mom knows…that you filled me full of wine, that you’re taking me on this voyage of the damned against my will?” Allison was appalled.
“She knows we’re running the river.” He faced her squarely. “I told her what I planned to do when I spoke to her on the telephone yesterday. She thought it was a good idea to jog your memory of all your grandfather held dear. She also thought I’d be able to convince you verbally to come along. When that failed, I had to resort to other methods. She doesn’t know about that last part.”
“Do you think she’ll condone what you actually did? Do you honestly think—”
“No,” he said. “If you were my daughter, I’d be ready to beat the living daylights out of any man who ‘spirited’ away my child. But you’re not my child, and I’m confident the end will justify the means.”
He turned and once more strode off into the darkness. Allison sank back down on the riverbank gravel. This entire mess read like something out of a cliché adventure novel. Heroine captured by handsome savage and carried away into the wilderness to become his adoring mate.
She drew her knees up in front of her, folded her arms on top of them once again, and watched the flames diminishing into coals—red-hot, glowing coals perfect for roasting wieners and marshmallows. She remembered her last meal cooked over a bonfire.
Gramps had been there. And her mother and Heath and his mother. It had been the second to last night she’d spent at the Chance, and after they’d eaten she and Heath had wandered down by the boathouse, a full summer moon lighting their way. She’d been fourteen, that age when boys are an endless fascination, and Heath, at sixteen, had seemed very much a man of the world, a romantic rebel full of inner-city toughness and street savvy.
She recalled leaning back against the rounded logs of the boathouse, the moonlight on her face, her waist-length wavy hair falling in cascades over her shoulders. Heath had come to stand close in front of her, a dark silhouette between the wild river and the romantic light of the moon. Feet planted apart, he’d towered above her, his shadow enveloping her, the planes of his face strong and handsome in the shadows.
The soft summer night filled with silvery magic. From the riverbanks, frogs raised a chorus to the young lovers. A tender breeze rippled sensuous music through the pines. And when Heath took her into his arms and touched his lips to hers, all her naive fantasies burst into full bloom. She remembered the way her heartbeat had gone into a wild flurry, the butterflies that had danced in her stomach, and, below, an overwhelming feeling of ecstasy she’d never before experienced. It had whirled her out of reality.
Heath was in love with her! Wild joy burst over her in an enchanted wave. Nothing could have been more wonderful, more perfect.
But suddenly his embrace tightened. She was pinned against the boathouse by his taut body. His mouth came down on hers again, but this time it was hard and brutal. He forced her lips apart, his tongue into her mouth. One hand went under her T-shirt, sliding up her back, working at her bra clasp. His body forced against hers was hard, shocking, demanding more than she could have imagined.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” She struggled, but somehow he pinned her hands behind her back with one of his.
“Come on, baby. I know the signs. You’ve been inviting this all night.” His arms became steel bands, his chest a brick wall. He bent his head to kiss her again, but this time she was ready. She clamped her teeth down on his lower lip.
He howled and staggered back from her.
“Bitch!” he snarled, scrubbing at the blood seeping down his chin. “Snotty rich bitch! Get away from me. Go on, run back to your fancy house and clothes!”
For a moment she stood staring at him. He was no longer handsome, no longer exciting and romantic. His features, in the shifting shadows, took on the threatening sneer of a wolf. He was a beast—a horrible, nasty beast.
With a stifled sob, she turned and ran toward the Lodge, stumbling over roots, tears streaming down her face. She was relieved to find her family and Mrs. Oakes hadn’t yet returned. Rushing to her room, she slammed the door, locked it, and fell face down onto her bed.
“I’ll never, ever feel romantic about any man as long as I live,” she sobbed into her pillow. “Falling in love is just something stupid people write about in books, stupid, stupid books!”
She’d never told anyone what had happened. She’d been too ashamed.
****
The howl of a coyote startled her back to the present, and Allison glanced over her shoulder into the darkness. A form emerged, a form that was Heath.
“Here.” He handed her a pointed stick. “The coals look ready.”
“Sure…okay.” She took the slender branch and reached for the package of wieners.
Her fingers fumbled with the plastic packaging, and suddenly he was squatting in front of her, covering her trembling hands with his.
“Allie, what’s wrong?”
In the glow of the dying fire she couldn’t see his face distinctly, but his use of her grandfather’s pet name softened her to the heart.
“Nothing… A coyote howled.”
“Level with me…for once.” His tone brooked no denial.
“I was…remembering.” She let the package drop from her hands and allowed her gaze to rest on his hands clasped over hers. “Our last wiener roast.”
“Allie…” The word came in a soft, aching breath. “God, Allie, I’m sorry.”
“W…what?”
“For what I did that night. I was fresh out of a tough juvenile facility where forcing yourself on a girl was considered the macho thing to do, and, after Jennifer, I was out to take my revenge on the first rich girl who crossed my path.”
Allison felt his fingers beneath her chin. When he raised her face to a level with his, she hated the tears she felt brimming in her eyes.
“You…you destroyed my spirit of romance,” she choked. “You took away all the mystery and magic. You were the reason I never came back to the Chance. I couldn’t stand the sight of you!”
“You’re telling me I’m the reason you never came back to visit Jack? Sweet Jesus, Allie!” His eyes stared deep into hers, so deep he might be looking down into her soul.
“It doesn’t matter now. There’s no going back. I can’t undo the loneliness Gramps suffered. I can’t get that magic back in my heart.” Those damn tears slid down her cheeks.
“Don’t.” He leaned forward to touch his lips to hers. “Please, Allie, don’t. I can’t watch you hurt any more.”
Astonished by his tenderness for a moment, she didn’t speak. Then she shrugged away, wiped the tears with the back of her hand, and looked down at the package of wieners on the gravel between them.
“Just forget it, okay? Open the wieners. I assume your knife is still sharp?” She sniffed herself back into control.
“Right.” He picked up the celluloid pack in one hand, pulled his knife from its scabbard with the other, and, in a single, swift gesture, slit it open. “Here.” He handed it back to her. “Eat.”
Their second pair of wieners were browning over the coals before he spoke again.
“Dogwood,” he said.
“What?” Surprised, she looked over at him as he squatted across the fire pit from her.
“These sticks we’re using, they’re dogwood, probably the hardest wood of all time. Their branches were once used to make daggers and were known as dagger wood. Time corrupted it to dogwood.”
“Interesting,” she replied vaguely, returning her gaze to the roasting wiener.
“Another legend states it was named dogwood because it proved effective in curing mange in dogs.”
“Charming.” She glanced over at him and, even in the flickering light, caught the gleam of mischief in his eyes.
He removed the cooked wiener from its skewer, plunked in into a roll, and applied mustard. Then he picked up the half-empty bottle of lime soda beside him and took a drink. “Hard to believe I like this stuff.”
“Given time, I suppose a person can develop a taste for almost anything.” She bit into her hot dog. “I’d forgotten how good these can be.”
“Nothing like food cooked in the outdoors. There’s a lot more you’ll discover you’ve been missing, if you’ll give yourself a chance to experience it.”
“I said I’d forgotten how good these can be. I didn’t say I’d never had better or that I wanted a steady diet of them.”
“Okay.” He finished his hot dog and handed her a cellophane bag. “Here, roast a marshmallow. Might sweeten your disposition.”
He stood ten minutes later. “Don’t forget to bury the tip of your stick in the sand. Bears can smell sweet stuff a long way off.”
He skewered his own cooking stick into the earth, stretched, yawned, picked up a cooking pot, and headed for the river. Shortly he returned and doused the campfire with its contents. As a cloud of smoke gusted up into the cold, crisp air, he dropped the container and offered a hand to help her to her feet.
“Time to hit the tent.”
“You do that. I’ll be in when I’m ready.” She ignored his gesture.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and turned toward the tent. “But it’ll get cold and scary out here without a fire to keep the frost and bears at bay.”
For a few minutes after he’d vanished into the tent, Allison sat stubbornly on the shore. A thin trickle of smoke wafted wreath-like from the smothering embers. Cold night air wrapped about her. In spite of her down-filled vest and flannel shirt, she shivered.
I won’t go rushing to join him. I won’t let him think I’m cold or afraid.
An owl hooted. A coyote raised a cry in the blackness beyond their campsite. Its long, mournful howl invited others to join a chorus. Allison stumbled to her feet, glancing back into the dark trees.
Maybe I should go to bed.
A slight movement to her left caught her attention. She turned toward the river. In the moonlight, something huge and hairy stood slouched and ape-like in the shallows.
A rock-like lump of terror blocked her voice. Rooted in place, she stared.
The creature shuffled toward her, then paused, appeared to sniff the air, and grunted.
A sasquatch. It’s definitely a sasquatch!
She bent and grabbed the end of a stick protruding from the smoldering fire. In the darkness its tip glowed red.
“Get!” She thrust it toward the creature.
“Allison, come on. Enough sulking. It’s got to be cold out there.”
Heath’s voice from the tent stopped the creature. It grunted again, shook a paw in her direction, then turned and waddled off into the darkness downriver.
As it disappeared, Allison dropped the stick back into the fire pit. Turning, she scrambled toward the tent.
“Sasquatch!” she cried as she fumbled with its zippered door.
“What?” Heath bolted upright in his sleeping bag when she burst inside.
“Sasquatch! In the river!”
“Stay here.” He came to his feet, his hand on the knife at his belt, and ducked out of the tent.
She sank down on the bed he’d laid out across from his, drew up knees too weak to support her, and hugged herself into a ball. Shivering, she rocked to and fro.
“Nothing out there.” A dark silhouette against the brighter outdoors, he stooped back into the tent. “I’ll look for tracks in the morning.” He zipped the canvas door flap shut.
“There won’t be any. He…it was standing in the shallows.”
“Right.” Exasperation colored the word. “I should have guessed. Did it dive out of sight…like the Loch Ness Monster?”
“You don’t believe me!”
“You make it difficult. First, a noisy bear. Now an amphibious sasquatch. Do me a favor. Get some sleep. And don’t wake me when you hear a poltergeist.” With a grunt, he climbed into his bed.
Muttering expletives, Allison pulled off her boots and crawled into her own sleeping bag. The bubble mattress crackled in tune with her temper.