“Is this okay?” she whispers, wrapping her arm securely around me.
I nod, not sure if it’s appropriate or not. But I’m cold, I’m on the ground in the middle of nowhere, and at this moment in time, I don’t care what is right or wrong. Her touch gives me comfort, and clearly mine gives her the same.
“I love you, Ember. Sweet dreams,” she says as she snuggles her face into my hair.
“Sweet dreams, Violet.”
We both deserve them.
Christopher
The pilot is lucky I don’t turn his ass in. Although he seems the type to keep his head down and just see what he wants to see—as long as there’s a paycheck in the end. I don’t like the man one bit, but when he got the call from my mother with the orders to fly me to the exact same spot he dropped Richard off at, he obliged. Did he offer me any other information when I grilled him? No. But at least I was in the general area. The man had to be scared shitless now that his idea of fast cash was blowing up in his face.
We land on an old tarmac in a meadow surrounded by pine and redwood trees for as far as I can see. My guess is the runway was once used—or maybe still used—for wild land firefighters and hotshots. I had once done a shoot on the heroes who fought the mountain blazes, and we went to remote places such as this.
“If you’re really crazy enough to hike out there in the mountains with no destination in mind, you better find shelter or someplace soon,” the pilot says as I get out of the plane. “A storm’s coming, and I’m not hanging around.”
“I got this,” I say, grabbing my backpack, which is fully loaded with every survival necessity I usually travel with on destination shoots.
Biting my tongue so I don’t say what I really want to say, I walk away without speaking another word. I don’t need his concern, and I don’t need to waste my breath telling the man what a piece of shit he is either.
I just need my wife.
He’s right, however. A storm is coming. Luckily, I dressed in thick boots, waterproof clothing, and a down jacket that could withstand the arctic. My experience as a photographer in some rugged and freezing locations has truly trained me for this. Ironic to think that my career brought me into Ember’s life, then chased her away, and now it’s going to help me bring her back into it.
During the flight, I studied the maps and terrain and really tried to put myself into Richard and Scarecrow’s minds. Where would they go? They’d have to walk away from the plane just as I am, so they couldn’t go too far. No way to have a vehicle to aid in getting away. They also have Ember, and though she’s physically in shape, there is only so far she can hike in these conditions. And though they may have tents, something deep inside me screams that they’d try to repeat history. They’d want an old mining town or at the very least a hunter’s lodge. They’d want to rebuild another version of Hallelujah Junction. They’d also know the authorities are hunting them down, so they’d need to hide. Which means wherever they are would be remote but in a place they’d see people coming with a way to escape if they were found.
A ridge. A cliff maybe. Some place vehicles couldn’t drive to give the authorities the upper hand. Richard would pick a place that any sane man wouldn’t want to reach.
But I’m not a sane man. Not anymore.
I’m about as mad as The Hatter due to Richard. And for that… he’ll now have to face my insanity head-on. He created this beast inside me. I’m his own creation and will be his undoing.
Now, to hunt down my prey….
“Mr. Davenport,” the pilot calls out as I begin my search.
I turn to face him but don’t say a thing. Speaking to the man who helped madmen capture Ember is not on the top of my list of favorite things to do.
“You have a satellite phone, right?”
I nod and pat my backpack to show I do.
“I’m removing myself from this situation. I’m going to act like I didn’t meet any of you.” He clears his throat. “But I’m going to tell a colleague of mine about you and that you’re out here. I’m going to tell him to fly you and that woman of yours out of here when you’re ready.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
The pilot looks up at the sky. “But he can’t fly during the storms or even the risk of one coming. So, you have windows where he can come and when he can’t. Be prepared to wait out the storms if need be. And that phone of yours won’t work well or at all in parts of this mountain. Especially during a storm. Just be aware.” He hops out of the plane, marches to where I am, and hands me a card with the other pilot’s information.
I nod again, turning on my heels to leave, grateful I at least have a way out when the time comes.
“One more thing,” the pilot calls out.
I turn to face him, still annoyed but appreciative that the man’s conscience is getting the best of him. “They spoke of a chapel. They also spoke of hiking up. I don’t know where exactly, but they kept mentioning ‘up’ and ‘chapel.’”
I reach for my maps and begin looking at all the terrain and my notes again. Chapel? There’s no town anywhere near the area. We are literally in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but mountaintops, ridges, canyons, cliffs, and pine trees for as far as the eye can see.
“I also don’t think they were going too far from where we landed. They were lugging a lot of supplies and bags. They were stocked up but nothing but their backs to carry it all with. No way would they have trekked far with all that weight,” he adds. “And one of the men only had one leg, so I can’t see how that would lend to intense hiking.”
Folding the map and deciding to head toward the highest ridge, I say, “I appreciate the added info.”
I pick up my pack and look toward the sky. A storm is coming, and I don’t have a lot of time to find some sort of shelter. I have a sleeping bag that will keep me warm in subzero temperatures, but I don’t exactly want to test how efficient it is.
I’ve gone on many photo expeditions in my time. I’ve hiked the most grueling trails, put myself in extreme temperatures, and placed myself in the middle of dangerous situations. All for the perfect photos. And to be honest… I loved it.
But this is different. Hiking this mountain, with no camera in hand, in search of my wife who was taken from me, is anything but fun. I know I’m a skilled survivalist, if need be, but I really don’t want the need to be. Not to mention the last time I went out in the wild by myself, I got hit over the head by a madman, held captive in a cellar in a ghost town, and forced to marry a woman who was also kidnapped and held captive. You’d think I’d learn.
Miles and miles, I walk with no destination. I just go “up” and search for any sign of life. Tiny snowflakes begin to fall. They aren’t sticking yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time until they do. But I won’t give up until I find something… anything… Ember. I will find Ember.
9
Ember
I can feel eyes on me.
I’m not alone.
“Hello?” I call out. “Is someone out there?”