“You ass**le! You’re gonna kill me!” he bawled. But he grabbed the rope, put it to his back to have support against the strength of the rushing water, and started moving deeper into the current.
Across the water, Ty and Deuce had stopped getting dressed and were both shouting unintelligibly at them. Zane glanced at Earl to see if he was making out what they were saying.
“I think they’re asking you not to shoot at them again,” Earl answered, his lips almost twitching into a smile.
Zane smiled and gestured significantly with the weapon when Redjacket looked back at them obstinately. The longer he tarried, the colder he would get. They hadn’t allowed him to remove his clothing, and Zane didn’t care if he caught ill. He raised his gun again threateningly. Across the water, Ty and Deuce both scrambled to take cover behind large trees in case Zane fired again. Earl actually chuckled as he moved to start collecting any leftover equipment he could gather.
Redjacket inched into the rushing water, holding tight to the rope with both hands and looking back at Zane with every other step as he waded through the water. He was about halfway across, being barraged by rushing water and all the small debris that came with it, when he stopped and looked back at Zane furtively. This look was different, and Zane tensed. Redjacket squared his shoulders and stood up straight—as straight as he could in the pounding waves—and he deliberately let go of the rope and ducked under it, letting the current take him. He was risking death at the hands of the river in order to attempt an escape.
“Damn fool,” Earflaps grunted, loud enough that Zane heard.
Zane glanced downriver, seeing how the water crashed against the rocky sides of the ravine indiscriminately, smashing up branches and anything else in its path. “Ty!” he yelled, taking two fast steps down to the water and pointing.
On the other side, Ty and Deuce were both scrambling down the steep embankment, trying to get ahead of the man and snag him before he was swept away beyond rescue. Earl grabbed at Zane again as the current took Redjacket into the middle of the river and buffeted him against the whitecaps being made by the rocks underneath the surface. “Won’t do to kill yourself over him,” Earl said to Zane breathlessly as he held him back. They began running along the bank instead, trying in vain to find something that would stop his progress.
It soon became apparent that Redjacket was no longer swimming to get away. He screamed silently at them as he flailed in the rapids. He was caught in an eddy that swirled with broken sticks and debris, all swamping him as he struggled to free himself from the grasp of the whirlpool.
Ty and Deuce reached the bank where they were nearest him, but they were still too far to reach him and drag him out, and neither man appeared to be willing to swim into the maelstrom the water created just a little further downstream. The only reason Ty hadn’t been swept away was because he’d kept himself close to the bottom, where the water was calmer and there were handholds to pull on. The treasure hunter hadn’t stood a chance trying it like he had.
Zane closed his eyes, letting the roar of the water fill his ears after he saw a large tree limb crash into Redjacket’s back and the man slipped into the roiling flood, carried limply away.
After a few moments of nothing but the overwhelming rush of water, the sound of Ty’s voice finally drifted to them. They couldn’t hear what he was saying even though he was shouting at them and waving, pointing toward the rope and the ATV.
“Let’s go,” Zane said shortly as he opened his eyes and walked back to the ATV where Earflaps was frozen in place, staring at the water.
“Best we send him next,” Earl told Zane sedately with a nod of his head at their lone remaining prisoner. He still had to shout to be heard.
Zane walked over to the man, who eyed him warily. “Just hold onto the rope, and you’ll be fine,” Zane said in something resembling reassurance. And after a moment’s deliberation of the man’s mental state, Zane drew one of his knives and sliced through the rope and tape binding his wrists.
Earflaps blinked down at his hands and then at Zane. “Thanks. I think,” he mumbled as he removed most of his outer clothing and then shuffled into the water.
They watched him make his way precariously across the burgeoning water, gripping the nylon line so tight his knuckles were white by the time he was a yard away from them. Zane slowly removed his own clothes, stuffing them into the bag Earl indicated.
Earl zipped up the last remaining pack and hoisted it. “That’s all we’re gonna be able to take with us,” he told Zane worriedly. Their clothing and shoes had taken up much of the room in the packs, and only the necessary supplies remained.
Zane turned his attention to Earl. “How far off do you think we are?”
Earl sighed and squinted his eyes, shaking his head as if trying to remember a map. “If we’re where I think we are, it’s still a good two, three days’ walk before we see a ranger,” he finally decided. “And that’s only if we’re where I think we are,” he repeated as he looked up at the sky. They hadn’t been able to see the stars at night for some time due to the cloud cover.
“So another couple bags would be a good thing, just in case,” Zane surmised, studying the older man.
Earl was already shaking his head. “Ain’t worth the danger,” he told Zane firmly. He pointed at the wheels of the ATV, which were already sliding dangerously toward the water. “Plus, you and Ty both already been wet for too long,” he added as he pointed at Zane’s soaked jeans. “This water’s coming from the peaks. Go back across another time and you won’t make it before you’re frozen.”
“Let’s get moving then,” Zane said, looking across the water and steeling himself to cross the frigid expanse. “We’ll have to make do without the rest.”
THE five of them sat hunched around a fire they’d all cussed over before getting started. After Zane and Earl had waded across the river with everything they could keep dry, they’d all been shaking so badly it had taken attempts from each of them before Ty had managed to get the matches to work.
Deuce was thankful they’d been able to keep the blankets and extra clothing. He was pretty sure they would all freeze if they were still wet, because it was getting colder as the sun set. After the trial of crossing the river—and losing the man they’d known only as Redjacket—no one mentioned trying to gear up and get any farther before nightfall. Dinner was slow cooking, mainly because they were all too listless and exhausted to mess with it. But as Deuce warmed a little, the psychiatrist in him began to have a fit.