Touching the Clouds (37 page)

No one came.

No one was going to come.

Scanning her surroundings and the distant hills and mountains, Kate knew the direction civilization lay. She might be able to hike to Susitna Station or get lucky and stumble across a homesteader’s cabin. She’d follow the sun and keep her bearings by the mountain peaks. She recognized most of them. But how would she carry Nena?

Kate decided to make a litter. That way she could pull Nena along behind her. She gathered sturdy branches, then ripped her shirt into strips, which she used to lash the limbs together. It wasn’t fancy, but it ought to work.

Before setting out, Kate gathered stones from along the shore. She placed them beside her camp in the shape of an arrow, pointing the way she’d planned to head.

“At least if someone comes, they’ll know which way we went,” she told Nena. She wished there were some way to carry water, but she’d have to rely on streams and morning dew.

After hefting her friend onto the litter, she gave Angel’s head a pat. “You ready for a hike?”

The dog whined and leaned against her, wagging her tail. Kate got her bearings, said a prayer, and set off.

In no time, the trees closed in behind, blocking the lake and the mountains from view. Using her knife, Kate scored the trees every ten or fifteen feet. That way she wouldn’t get lost and if someone came looking for her, hopefully they’d see the markings. She kept moving, using the sun as a guide and hoping for openings in the woodland that would help her stay on course.

Pulling the litter meant slow going. And Kate wasn’t even sure it would hold together. She had to stop several times to tighten the cloth strips.

With no trail, Kate fought her way through brush and downed trees. When clouds moved in, blocking out the sun, it became more difficult to maintain a constant heading. Still, she continued, trusting in her sense of direction.

Kate could only guess at how long they’d been traveling, but it must have been several hours. She was tired and thirsty and now wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake. She considered going back, but to what? Their only hope was to push ahead.

When a soft rain started, she stopped and tipped her face up, catching drops in her mouth. She moved on. She’d find her way . . . somehow. That night they slept beneath a tree huddled together—vulnerable.

The next morning, she stopped at the top of a ravine and studied a creek winding its way through the bottom. She needed water and remembered hearing that, when lost, a person should follow moving water downstream. It would inevitably lead to a larger stream or a river, and with any luck, people.

Making sure the litter was secure, she started down the steep bank, pushing the heels of her boots into soft earth. Without warning, the ground gave way. Kate started to slide. She leaned backward, planting her feet into the loose soil, but she was moving too quickly and the litter came apart behind her. She pushed her feet deeper, but the toe of her boot caught on a branch, and she tumbled forward and somersaulted down the side of the ravine, leaving Nena behind.

Her head struck something. Pain and colors exploded behind her eyes. After that, there was nothing, only the oblivion of unconsciousness.

29

P
aul brought his axe down on a chunk of spruce, splitting it in half. He picked up one wedge, cut it again, and tossed the two sections into a pile. He did the same with the other half. He kept at it, splitting chunk after chunk and wishing he could empty his mind. But no matter how hard he worked or how much his muscles ached, Kate’s disappearance stayed with him. What had happened to her? Where was she? Was she even alive? The same ache he’d known when Susan died mushroomed in his chest.

Grabbing another piece of wood, he set it on the stump.
The dogs started barking and he looked to see what had set them off. Patrick walked the trail between the two homesteads. His expression was grim. Paul prepared for the worst.

Hands in his pockets, Patrick stepped into the clearing. “Heard from Sidney.”

Paul steeled himself against bad news.

“No sign of her.”

Taking a breath, Paul turned back to the wood, raised his axe, and brought it down, splintering the spruce into three pieces. “She might still be alive.” He chucked the firewood aside and turned to Patrick. “I’ve got to do something. I can’t just wait around, wondering.”

“There’s not much you can do. People are searching, the best pilots are out.”

Paul straightened and looked squarely at Patrick. “I’ve gotta help.”

“The best thing you can do is pray.”

Paul pressed the head of his axe against the ground and leaned on it. “I’ve been praying. It’s not enough.”

Patrick glanced up the creek toward the Susitna River. “They’ll find her.”

“And what if they don’t? It’s been three days. She could be suffering, maybe even dying. Do you know what it’s like to wait for rescue and have it not show up?” Paul felt the heat of disappointment in his belly. He knew, all too well, what it felt like to wait, only to discover there would be no help.

“They’ll find them,” Patrick said with certainty, placing a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

Paul shrugged it away. “You can’t know that.”

“Every time she went up she knew the danger. She chose to live with risk.”

“That doesn’t mean she should be left to die out in the bush somewhere.”

“’Course it doesn’t. No one’s saying that. But she lived the way she wanted.”

The word
lived
reverberated through Paul’s mind.
Patrick
thinks she’s dead.
Paul lifted the axe and swung it, burying the blade in the stump. “Can you get Sidney on the radio?”

“Probably.”

“I want to talk to him.” Paul headed toward the trail.

While Patrick cranked the radio, Paul paced. He stopped when Patrick finally connected.

“Sidney, Paul’s here. Says he wants to talk to you.” Patrick removed the headset and handed it to Paul. “Speak into this.” He pointed at a microphone.

Paul put on the headphones and leaned close to the radio set. “Sidney, this is Paul Anderson from Bear Creek.”

“Sorry about Kate,” Sidney said. “We’re doing everything we can.” A buzz rolled high and low across the lines.

“I want to help.”

“There are a lot of pilots out looking for her. We’ll find her, believe me.”

Sidney’s positive tone did nothing to allay Paul’s anxiety. “Can you get me on a search team?”

“Like I said, I’ve got a lot of guys on it already. You might as well stay put and stay safe.”

“Get me on a plane. I can be an extra pair of eyes.”

There were a few moments of silence, then Sidney said, “Guess it can’t hurt.”

A weary sigh crackled across the airways. “Mike’s going out again in a few minutes. He planned on flying up the Susitna. I’ll have him swing by and pick you up.”

“Thanks. I’ll be on the dock.”

“Paul . . .”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a good pilot, one of the best. If anyone can make it, she can. She’s probably just waiting for us to find her.”

“That’s what I figured.”

The line went dead and Paul removed the headset. “I better get some gear.”

Toweling her hands on her apron, Sassa moved into the front room. “Don’t give up hope.”

“I’m not.” He headed for the door.

Paul stood on the dock for what seemed like hours before he heard the drone of a plane. He watched Mike set down, and as soon as he was close enough to the dock, Paul leaped onto a pontoon and climbed in, squeezing his tall frame into the front seat of the Fairchild.

“Morning,” Mike said, turning toward the middle of the stream. He looked worn out.

“What’s the word?”

“Nothing new.” Mike scratched several days’ growth of beard. “She stopped here and no one’s seen or heard from her since.” He sounded weary and discouraged.

“With two of us, we might be able to cover more territory.” Mike revved the engine, moved up the creek to set up for takeoff. He glided over the water and lifted into the air. “I’m going to have one more look along the run we know she made, and then . . .well, then we pray God shows us where she is.”

“Have you searched the Mount Susitna area? It’s one of her favorite places.”

“I know that.” Mike’s voice sounded testy. “I’ve been over it a dozen times.”

“Sorry. I know you’ve been at it for days.” Guilt sliced through Paul’s middle. He wished Kate was his, but Mike was the one who deserved her.

Mike flew at a low altitude while Paul watched the river, its banks, the forest, and the wetlands. He gripped the edge of the window. What if they didn’t find her? Then what?

When they passed over Susitna Station, Mike asked, “You think she might have flown over Mount Susitna?”

“She loved it. But she liked the Chugach too.”

“I doubt she’d go east. She had Nena with her and was headed up to Kotzebue.”

“Yeah, that’s what Patrick said.” Paul wished he’d met the plane that day. Why hadn’t he? “What about some of the peaks to the west?”

“Pilots are looking at those now.”

Paul’s eyes turned to the Sleeping Lady. “Let’s make another search around Mount Susitna. Kate was fascinated with it.”

Mike smiled. “She told me once if she were a mountain, that’s the one she’d like to be ’cause she never got enough sleep.”

The knot of jealousy returned. Paul hated that Mike knew things about Kate he didn’t.

Mike turned the plane toward the mountain. Pockets of fog drifted between earth and sky.

Paul hadn’t done much praying in recent years, but he did now. There was nothing else he could do.

With the engine droning and Paul’s hopes waning, they flew patterns over the mountain forests and lakes. There was no sign of Kate or her plane. Paul kneaded his neck. The muscles ached from craning to see out the window.

“Not much light left, ought to head back.” Mike sounded miserable.

Paul didn’t reply, but stared below, unwilling to give up. Then he saw something in one of the lakes that just didn’t look right.

“Hey, swing back over there.” Paul pointed at the lake.

“What? Did you see the plane?” Mike did as he was told, dropping just above the trees. “What’d you see?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. Might just be a shadow.”

Mike flew low, his eyes scanning the water. “Something’s there.” He pulled up and looped back. “Can you see it? What is it?” He came around for another look. “Is that a plane in the water?”

Paul’s hopes of finding Kate alive faded. There was a plane, but it sat on the bottom of the lake. He searched the shore, hoping to see her jumping and waving to signal them. There was nothing but an empty beach.

“Could it be Kate’s Bellanca?”

“Maybe.” Mike’s voice was morose.

“Well, put down. Put the plane down!”

“Hang on to your suspenders.” Mike made a wide turn and came back around, landing on the crystalline waters. He moved toward the place they’d spotted the plane.

Both men climbed onto the pontoons and stared down into the lake.

“Can’t see anything from here, too much reflection,” Mike said.

Paul lay flat on his belly and put his face in the water, searching. When he came up, he sputtered and pushed back wet hair. “There’s a plane down there, all right. It might be Kate’s.”

He pushed to his feet and stared at the beach again, hoping for some sign of her. She wasn’t there. Where was she? Paul climbed back inside and stripped off everything but his long johns.

Mike stuck his head inside. “Whattaya doing?”

“Someone’s got to look. We have to know.” Paul moved back onto the pontoon. “She . . . might still be in there.”

Unable to discuss the possibility further, he dove in, the cold water sending shock waves through him. He kicked hard and pulled with his arms, propelling himself downward. By the time he reached the plane there wasn’t enough air left in his lungs for time to get a look inside, but he did see her name written on the fuselage. Sickened, he headed for the surface. When he broke free of the water, he gulped in oxygen.

“Did you see anything?”

“It’s Kate’s plane, but I didn’t get a look inside.” Breathing hard, he said, “I’ll try again.”

He took in several more breaths and dove. He headed for the front of the plane, hoping to see through one of the windows. He managed a quick look. There was no sign of anyone inside. Pulling for the surface, he struggled not to take a breath.

When his face broke free of the water, he gulped in a lung-ful of air. “Didn’t see anyone.” He could barely get enough air. “I think she got out.”

“Let’s have a look around then.” Mike sounded hopeful. He climbed into the cockpit and cruised toward shore while Paul balanced on a pontoon. When they reached shallow water, Paul jumped in, taking a line with him to secure the plane.

Holding Paul’s clothes and boots out of the water, Mike waded ashore. “You might want these.” He handed the clothing to Paul.

“Thanks.” Shivering, Paul dressed while Mike did a quick search of the beach.

Just as Paul was tying his last lacing, Mike called, “ Hey! I found something!”

Paul jogged up the shore where Mike stood near the tree line.

“Looks like a shelter. They must still be alive!”

Paul’s eyes followed the rocks Kate had set out that pointed in the direction she’d headed. “Looks like she hiked out.” He stared into the trees, trying to penetrate the darkness.

Mike moved toward the forest. “She’s a determined woman,” he said, his voice filled with pride.

“She might still be close.” Paul put his hands to his mouth and hollered, “Kate! Kate!” He waited for an answer. There was none. He called again. Nothing.

“We should be able to track them.” Mike studied the prints leading away from the camp. “Looks like someone’s pulling a litter. There’s only one set of footprints, plus the dog’s. And these scuffed tracks. One of them must be hurt.”

Mike headed for the plane. “We’ll need my pack and some gear, plus a stretcher . . . just in case.”

With the sun fading, Mike and Paul set off into the woods. It wasn’t long before they discovered the blazed trees.

“That Kate’s a smart cookie. We’ll find them in no time.” Mike hurried his steps.