Dark Sky (Joe Pickett #21)(69)

“You’re not the only one,” Price said. The man carefully negotiated the river rocks and joined Joe beneath the tree. Price sat down heavily and sighed. Both men simply breathed in and out, in and out, resting while their lungs stopped burning from exhaustion.

To avoid leaving tracks in the snow, Joe had led them down the middle of the small unnamed creek. It was treacherous footing made worse by the darkness. Joe’s left sock was soaked through from an earlier mishap when his foot had glanced off a slick rock and plunged into a small pool up to his knee. Icy water had poured in over the top of his waterproof boot and it now squished with the sound of a wet kiss when he walked. Under any other circumstance, Joe would have stopped to dry out his sock before proceeding. But he couldn’t afford to do that now.

“I can’t believe you didn’t fall down until you hit that tree,” Price said. “I wish I’d had my phone to get a video of it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“How long can we rest before we have to get going again?”

“I’m not resting. I’m waiting for my vision to clear.”

“You know what I mean.”

“The answer is, not long.”

“How far do you think they’re behind us?”

“No idea. But I’d guess thirty minutes at most.”

Price let his head rock back out of frustration, but he hit it on the trunk and it made a hollow sound.

“Ouch.”



* * *



—

Joe was exhausted from running, from trying to see which rocks to step on in the creek bed in the pale light of the stars, from lack of food, and from lack of sleep. The muscles in his legs buzzed warm from the effort at the moment, but he knew they’d stiffen and get cold if he sat too long. His left foot could freeze.

Although he could feel that the morning would dawn warmer than the day before and be more in line with typical fall weather, it was still cold out. The sheen of sweat on his skin beneath his base layer was starting to cool as well.

Hypothermia was curling back its lips and exposing its sharp teeth.

Joe grunted and willed himself to stand up. The constant movement had kept him warm. To pause too long was to freeze and die.

Price did the same, using the tree trunk to stand, but he whimpered as he did so. Joe looked over and saw the glint of the starlight on the shaft of the spear that still protruded from Price’s shoulder next to his neck. In all that had transpired, Joe had forgotten about it.

“Does that hurt?” Joe asked. He could see the barbed tip on the front of the shaft sticking out of Price’s back and an inch or so of the butt of it in front.

“It does.”

“You’ve been pretty stoic about it,” Joe said with admiration.

“Thank you. It’s probably because every inch of me hurts,” Price said. “This is just another thing.”

“I could pull it out, but I left my first-aid kit in my daypack back at the cabin. I’m afraid if I pulled it through, it would bleed and I couldn’t stop the flow.”

“I’ve got a first-aid kit,” Price said.

“What? You do?”

Price patted the front pocket of his high-tech cargo pants. “I’ve had it with me the whole time.”

“What else do you have on you?” Joe asked.

“My headlamp. It’s in the other pocket.”

Joe whistled, and said, “Give ’em both to me. I’ll get it done as quickly and painlessly as I can.”

“Maybe we should just leave it in there for now,” Price said. “I’ll be the only tech guy in the boardroom with a spear sticking out of him. That’ll really give me some more cred and grow the legend.”

Joe smiled. “What if it snags on a branch while you’re trying to get away? That could really screw you up.”

“Good point,” Price said glumly.

“We need to get it out. Your shoulder is probably still numb, but it’ll hurt like hell tomorrow.”

“I just hope there is a tomorrow,” Price said.

Joe slipped the headlamp over the crown of his hat, turned it on, and focused the beam in tight. The barbs on the point were two spring-loaded bends of steel that curled up from the spear. If he tried to pull it through from the front, they would do an enormous amount of damage.

As Joe studied the wound and tried to figure out the easiest way to extract the spear, Price said, “Do you know what I’ve been doing while I’ve been following you in the dark?”

Joe shook his head.

“I’ve been praying to God to help me get out of this. I’ve been saying in my head, ‘God, if you’re up there, please help me get home. Please help Joe and give him wisdom. If I get out of this, I’ll devote my life to good works.’ I’ve kind of got a mantra going. I repeat it over and over to myself. My mantra is ‘Help me God and I’ll never let you down again. Help me God and I’ll never let you down again.’”

“Good for you, if it helps,” Joe said.

“I think it does. If nothing else, it gets my mind off of this situation we’re in. It must be easier for you with your deep well of faith.”

“Honestly, it’s more like a pail of faith,” Joe confessed. “But it’s interesting you’re thinking that way.”