RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET (24 page)

"So is she now."

They'd propped Rachel against a large boulder and Janie was massaging her sister's hands, arms, and shoulders, hoping to hasten the exit of the powerful sedative from her system.

"Bertha's not a killer," he said. "She was defending her cub…and us."

"Doesn't matter. In the end, Rex and Martha will have to come for her—put her down. You know that."

He didn't answer, and he stood staring down at the surrounding countryside with an intensity that surprised Janie.

"I know what you're thinking, Justin. Why do we have to tell anyone what Bertha did? Am I right?"

He confirmed her guess.

"We have to report what she's done, you know that. Now that she's tasted human blood, she might find she likes it. Suppose someone innocent dies because we hid the truth?"

He didn't respond, and she didn't press him further. It was not a matter that had to be settled immediately.

They had run from Bertha and the killers with two concerns in mind: save Rachel and get away as fast as possible. But such an urgent, unplanned escape had left them without their pack, their food, their blanket, or their pup tent. They did retain their jackets, Justin's knife (always sheathed to his side), and Justin's cigarette lighter. But besides these minimal survival tools, they were now without resources in the eastern wilderness beyond the Yuktapah Preserve.

Justin put aside his worries about Big Bertha and knelt to help Janie with Rachel. "Is she stirring at all?"

Janie shook her head. "She's out of it. They must have used something extra strong."

"They probably planned on booster shots on the trip to Fairbanks. She might start responding sooner than we think."

"Hope so."

"In the meantime I'll carry her again—she's not that heavy, and when I run out of steam we'll drag her. But let's be on guard not to leave a trail for those two bums to follow. Hard ground, if possible, rocks, detours, water—anything to distract them. They're stupid, shouldn't be difficult to leave them behind."

"Stupid but evil," said Janie.

Rex and Martha refueled in
Fairbanks, and now with the two additional gasoline tanks that had been fitted some years ago to their Bell 407 and the extra fuel they carried in the bear-management compartment (dangerous but necessary in the present circumstances), they were ready to spend a considerable number of hours searching the southern reaches of Yuktapah Canyon.

The volcano was quiet. It had apparently spent its fury, and though they couldn't fly close because of the still dangerous ash cloud, they got close enough to see that the mountain no longer had a cone.

"Must have been quite a blast," said Rex.

Martha said, "Wish we'd have been here to protect our kids."

"Me, too," he said.

They flew southeast and when they arrived at the northern end of Glacier Lake, Rex said, "Lots of fallen trees and rubbish, but it looks okay to land the float planes and drop in teams."

"Wonder what's going on under the lake?" Martha asked.

He sighed. "Something's going on under every part of Alaska. Can't worry about that now, not while there's rescuing to be done."

"We don't want to lose more lives to that volcano."

"It's quiet now."

"That's what we thought before."

Near the southern end of the mile-long lake Rex's confidence began to weaken. "Good grief. They were right at Denali—this part of the lake's gone underground…and the canyon has folded in on itself."

They continued south until they reached the area when they estimated the station should stand, but there was nothing to be seen. It was as if someone had turned the earth with a giant spade, leaving only fresh, empty soil.

"Maybe they got away before this happened," said Rex.

Martha gazed out her window in despair. "Got away to where?" she said.

Idaho Joe and Montana Mike
left the tent after several hours and were gratified to see that the monstrous sow was nowhere in sight. She had taken the cub and returned to the woods.

Ernie's head still lay on the ground not far from the rope that held the bearskins.

"Bad death," said Joe.

"No death is good," Mike said.

"Some worse than others."

"Better get rid of the body. Might raise too many questions."

"Head, too," Joe said with a chuckle.

They cleaned the camp grounds thoroughly, buried Ernie's remains under the back of the Yuktapah where they'd disposed of the hunters, and then loaded up with food, tent, rifles, water and other supplies for the chase.

"I still want those girls," said Joe. "And I really want that boy dead. He's been lucky so far, but his luck's about to run out. But we've got to hurry. Need to get back here as soon as we can, hide the twins in the canoes and take off. The Prophet's got money all over the world, and I want some of it."

"Will the cargo plane wait in Fairbanks?"

"You can bet the Prophet's already arranged that. It's up to us now to earn our dough."

"Rangers and troopers will be showing up."

"We can avoid them if we're careful, and talk our way through if we have to."

Mike stuck a Ruger 1-H with scope through the straps of his back pack. "Like to get a shot at the boy with this baby. Hope he sticks his head out from behind a tree."

"Don't hit the twins."

"I won't. I know where the money is."

Justin and Janie made a
major decision. They would keep increasing the distance between themselves and their probable pursuers, but they wouldn't flee blindly into the wilds. If they could manage it they would execute a giant semi-circle retreat, so they could avoid Idaho Joe and Montana Mike, but still be within a reasonable distance of home base. And hopefully, Rachel would soon be refreshed and be able to assist in their plans.

Justin was still carrying Rachel, but now he lay her down gently and said, "Wish she weren't so leggy—like trying to hoist a moose calf. Don't know where to put everything. Let's go back to dragging her for a while. I'll do the left arm."

Janie complied, and with great care they began to progress across a broad, green valley. The sun had now declined below the surrounding hills, and it was clear that twilight would soon be on them—and after that darkness. Before long they would have to start looking for a spot to spend the night.

They continued in the same fashion until they reached the middle section of a hill above the valley. There was a small grove of larches that seemed to offer a promising area to make camp. They laid Rachel on the soft grass and set about constructing a lean-to against the side of a small cliff face. When they completed the structure, Justin examined their work and then prepared to leave camp.

"Where are you going?" asked Janie.

Armed with a hardwood throw stick Justin said, "Off to look for dinner and breakfast. Berries, arctic squirrels—whatever."

"I like my squirrel well done," Janie said, with a touch of her old spirit. She didn't like being left alone, but she supposed Rachel was with her, even though unconscious.

19
On the Run

They woke surprisingly warm
the next morning. Justin had used his knife and his hands to dig a shallow bed inside the lean-to and had lined it with skunk cabbage leaves (smelly but practical). He then covered the two girls and himself with a blanket of pine branches, grass, twigs, and needles.

Rachel was fully awake now, on her feet, and filled with questions regarding what happened at the outfitters' camp. When she heard about Big Bertha's charge, she smiled and said, "Good for her, one less bad guy to worry about."

Janie and Justin exchanged glances.

"Actually two less," said Janie.

"Yeah, I remember that much. The fourth guy is lying at the bottom of a cliff somewhere."

Justin had built a fire, and he grinned at Rachel as he turned a juicy chunk of meat on the spit he'd fashioned from a paper birch stick.

"Arctic squirrel?" asked Rachel. "Had to happen, I guess."

He laughed. "Janie and I ate the arctic squirrel last night. This is special…snowshoe hare—saved it to share with you when you came out of your long sleep."

"Rabbit's better than squirrel," Rachel said.

Justin corrected her. "Not rabbit, snowshoe hare."

"Thought they were the same thing."

"Not really, but let's eat. We'll talk on the trail."

In a matter of minutes they had eaten, knocked down the lean-to, and done their best to eradicate all traces of their campsite. No sense in giving the killers a landmark to assist them in their pursuit.

As they hiked they discussed the four primary problems they must deal with during their flight: Number one (overwhelmingly) was preventing recapture, for if they were caught, nothing else mattered—Justin would be dead and Rachel and Janie would be on their way to Fairbanks. Second was water, but fortunately, at least in the present area, there was plenty of drinking water available in the many streams and creeks that were tributaries of the Yuktapah. Shelter would be time consuming, but they'd all had experience building shelters in much worse conditions in Montana's Bitterroots. That left food as their biggest concern, but Justin felt he could kill enough meat (using the throw stick he'd stuck in his belt), his shoe laces and select vines), and they could all gather large quantities of spring berries. And if they had to, they could search for grubs, insects, and other crawling things. The girls rejected the latter group out of hand, but Justin knew if they got hungry enough, they'd cry out for delicious squirmies.

The two surviving fishermen were
not outdoorsmen, but they were sly, calculating, and greedy, eager to get the financial reward they'd been promised, so they diligently applied themselves to tracking the fleeing teenagers.

After breaking camp that morning, they continued their search, carefully examining the ground, grass, rocks, and trails for signs their prey had passed this way.

"Dragged her and carried her," said Mike. "Tried to travel over hard soil and rocks whenever possible—especially when they carried her. We've got to range wide when we lose their trail, and keep ranging until we pick it up again."

"Slow going," said Joe.

"We'll get them. They're carrying a dead weight."

Joe looked at his watch. "She's conscious by now, walking on her own this morning."

They took no notice of the spot twenty yards off the trail where Justin and Janie had constructed the lean-to. The area was now pristine and no signs of the shelter or the campfire remained.

At the top of the rise, Montana Mike unslung his rifle and with the scope surveyed the intervening valley and woods on both sides. "Nothing," he said. "An elk, though…in the north forest. Tempted to bring him down."

"Don't be ridiculous. We're not a hunting party."

"Aren't we"

In the State Prison at
Deer Lodge, J.J. Flack, Prophet of the Sheba Hill Temple, newly renamed God's Way Temple (now relocated in Whitehorse, YT, CA) walked slowly across the prison yard, flanked by Elders Mobly and Biggars. Flack's expression revealed inner confidence and self-satisfaction. He patted the pocket that contained his iPhone.

"The cargo plane is waiting on the tarmac at Fairbanks International…and it'll stay there for another week if need be. Costing us a fortune, but we've got access to several fortunes."

"Idaho Joe and his boys?" asked Mobly.

The Prophet shrugged. "Who knows? But I've arranged a backup. Two men from the Yukon are flying to Fairbanks to join the rescue operation. Loyal men—soon to be elders in the temple. That makes two of our people standing by to load the cargo plane, four already in the Yuktapah, and two more going in. God's will be done."

"We can do no more," said Biggars.

Flack smiled. "There's no limit what we can do, with God in our corner."

Though Justin and the girls
tried desperately, they couldn't break free of the dense forest they were currently traversing. They needed a clearing, even a small one so they could signal the helicopter making widening circles overhead. There was no way the searchers could see them below, and to the teenagers' dismay the chopper was moving away toward the northwest. It would soon be gone and all hope of gaining the attention of the rescue team would be lost.

Rachel stopped running and held up her hand. "No use—no open space in sight. Can't we signal from in here? Fire, smoke?"

Justin looked unsure. "Problem with that. Smoke would probably get lost in the canopy…real thick up there. And notice how dry everything is. We might start a forest fire, endanger ourselves and everyone else in the area."

"I know a couple of men I wouldn't mind endangering," said Rachel.

Janie said, "Animals, too."

Justin tightened his mouth and wrinkled his brow. "Maybe we could contain the fire—watch the area around it carefully, stamp out any expansion, send up as much smoke through the trees as we can, and then put out the fire…thoroughly. Might be okay."

The sounds of the rotor blades above were diminishing. "We need to hurry," said Janie. "They're going away."

Those who have been lost in the forests of the world, report there is nothing more discouraging, nothing more dispiriting than to see salvation overhead and not have them see you. And that is precisely what happened to Justin and the twins—except in their case they made matters worse by their efforts to help their rescuers.

They built their fire; watched it with great care; watched as the smoke rose and dissipated in the canopy; watched as the helicopter left to search in a more productive area; and watched with horror as a burning ember leapt from the fire and set the surrounding woods ablaze.

20
Wildfire

Rachel could see that Justin
was blaming himself for the decision to light the fire before breaking free from the jungle-like overgrowth, but she was having none of it. She and Janie had concurred in the decision and they were just as responsible for the outcome as he. "Stop beating yourself up, Justin," she said, as they raced through the thick woods to stay ahead of the flames and smoke. "We're all in this together. We agreed and we were wrong."