Alternative post.

For all my friends, since facebook is intent on deleting post that it doesn't like and censors so much we have to come up with alternative places to post , meet up and share.  This is an alternative place to find me. My blog. It has been inactive for a while and I probably will not use it much now unless facebook starts deleting my posts like it has so many of my friends.

STRANGE NEW FRIEND

From somewhere behind me I hear a woman's voice, ''You camping here?''             ''Yeah!''  I reply as I turn around to see angry slits eyeing me suspiciously.      

''Well I'm camping right over there and I don't want any romance.''            

"Ok," I reply as I wonder what on earth prompted that kind of introduction.  Tired after my first day of sightseeing around Yellowstone National Park, and still needing to prepare supper, I continue unloading supplies from my car, carrying them to the picnic table that serves as my kitchen and dining room table, and wondering to myself if she could really have much of a problem with men beating a path to her door. She has coal black hair; big coal black hair like an enormous bouffant except tied in back. And she is built like Emmit Smith. “Oh well," I think to myself, "Women must be kind of scarce up here in the northwest." Most everything is except grizzly bears. I smile at the thought of naming her "Little Griz" since I don't know her name.                 

Just as I do she says, "Tamara".

"Steven," I say as I open the ice chest and produce a beer. I don't guess it would go over too well if I offer her a beer so I leave the top open and pop a brew as I walk back over to the car for some pots and pans. "Help yourself if you like."

"I don't drink," Tamara says.

I take a long drink, swallowing about half the can as I say to myself, "Good, I wasn't expecting company." I walk back to the table, put down the pots and pans, and shut the lid on the ice chest.

            "You really from Texas?" she asks. I'm thinking she must have noticed my license plate when I realize she is looking at my chest and smiling. And I remember I'm wearing a tee shirt that says “It’s a Texas thang, Y'all wouldn't understand."

I look at the Suburban parked in front of her tent and say, "Yep, ya'll from Washington?" The smile evaporates to be replaced by angry, suspicious slits once again. Her posture changes dramatically as she takes on a stance like Emmit getting ready to carry the ball through a wall of defensive linemen. I nod toward her truck. "The license plate." She relaxes perceptively and the creases leave her face. I finish the beer with the second drink, crush the can before tossing it in the trash can and retrieve another beer from the cooler. This time shutting it immediately so she wouldn't think it was another attempt to get her drunk or something. "Little Gris has some problems trusting guys," I tell myself.

            There is a chill in the air. It is June 2nd, the second day the park is open for the summer season and there is still snow on the ground everywhere that is not exposed to direct sunlight. I put a light coat on against the chill and light the burners on the propane camp stove. After putting on water for coffee, I crack two eggs into the frying pan, followed by a slice of ham. Tamara is wandering off toward her tent now, as abruptly as she had arrived. Opening my second beer and draining it in one swallow, I notice that alcohol has a noticeable kick to it in the rarefied mountain air. I flip the eggs, breaking the yolk on one. "Damn!" I turn the ham and notice Tamara is busying herself with the making of a sandwich in her camp.

            New campers are setting up tents all around us and others are pulling in, filling the vacant campsites. "Good, I hope she will feel safer with other campers all around us. I know I will." There is something a little creepy about Lil Gris, "But why did she set up camp right next to my tent if she has problems trusting people? But then I was gone sightseeing when she got here and she may have been hoping for a family next door. Well, there are plenty of families here now!"

            The smell of campfires and suppers from various campsites wafts through the cool night air whetting my appetite for more as I eat the ham and eggs. I'm thinking of a second serving since I have eaten nothing but trail mix all day. As I sop up the yolk from the egg that survived the flipping with a piece of bread, I think maybe sunny side up this time. I love the runny yolk of a fried egg and that makes me think back to basic training in the Army so long ago.

Private Prichard had never seen sunny side up eggs before, "Damn Wilson, why don't ya just eat 'em raw?"

My buddy Lessner says "Shut up Prick; just eat your own damn eggs."      

"NO TALKING IN THE MESS HALL" screams Sgt. Dalton and blows a whistle long and loud and everyone jumps up to take their tray to a window by the door where some other recruit doing KP will be waiting, "Tableware in the blue tubs, dishes and bowls in the red one," he says to each of us as we file by.

Prichard says, "You wouldn't have to say that over and over if you didn't stand in front of the sign that says tableware in the blue tub, dishes and bowls in the red tub."

The recruit on KP says, "How do you know what it says Prick? You can't read."

Again Dalton blows the whistle, this time joined by Sergeant  Lopez and Corporal Anderson, screaming "OUTSIDE, OUTSIDE, OUTSIDE. NOW! NOW! NOW!” 

Prichard says "Now you got us all in trouble WILSON."

            I smile when I remember how my uncle swears he never knew you could have eggs anyway you wanted till he got in the Air Force. "Mom just cooked ‘em and put ‘em on the table and we ate ‘em."

I glance up from my empty plate to be startled out of my reverie by Tamara, the Gris standing just across the table from me with a big stick in her hand. "I'm going for a walk," she says, "watch my tent!"

"OHHH okay". I say slowly, and she's gone. "Definitely not going to have another beer this evening. I'm going to need my wits about me tonight.”

            I decide to pass on seconds, too and just have some trail mix. So I get up and head over to the bag I had put down by the car when my strange new friend had arrived. I bent over to pick it up and two ground squirrels scrambled out with granola bars in their mouths.

"You can get fined for that you know."

Startled I spun around, "What''.

It was Ed and Phyllis, two retirees that volunteered at the campground making their evening rounds.

"Feeding the animals," Ed says. "It's against the park rules."

I smile, "The little varmints stole it."

"Always do!" they laugh. The thieving varmints disappear down a small hole under the picnic table I hadn't noticed. "Don't know if we told you last night, but you can keep your food in those metal bins over there by the wash house. You can lock em if you want to, but nobody does. They're bear proof." He assures me.

"How about ground squirrels?" I ask with a broad smile....

            "Be sure and wash your dishes as soon as you are through," adds Phyllis. "The smell of food attracts bears and if they find something to eat, it'll be dang near impossible to get rid of them. Bears love a free meal."

"Yeah," I laugh. "I used to have a brother in law like that." They laugh and wander off to visit some other campsites and I gather up my mess to carry over to the hydrant. As I'm crossing the road in front of my tent, Tamara comes back with a double arm load of cut and split firewood.                     

"There's an empty campsite about three sites down and there's a huge pile of firewood free for the taking."

"How do you know it's free?" I ask.

"The people that were there were packing up. Said they had to go and wouldn't be needing it."

I finish washing dishes in the freezing water and shiver as I carry them back to camp.  I decide against the fire wood since I had bought some at the check-in station earlier. And besides that, I am beat. I am so looking forward to crawling into my sleeping bag and drifting off to sleep.                                      

       "Hi Steve, did you get enough firewood?" It's Tamara with another double armload of firewood.

"No, I've had a full day ..."

"Well, here you can have this. She drops it beside the fire ring. "I have plenty and you're welcome to it, I just hate to see it go to waste, so I'll just go get some more." she says over her shoulder as she disappears into the darkness still talking fast in short choppy spurts. I can hear her in the distance, but she is too far away to understand what she is saying. Her voice grows louder as she returns and finally I hear her saying, "So I stopped for gas in Idaho and there were these two men that kept looking at me and it made me nervous and that's why I forgot to put it back on and now I guess I'll have to buy a new one. Do you think there will be a parts store around here?"

To myself, "Oh, I need a scotch."

"Are you having fun yet?"

"What?"

 "Are you having fun yet?" She asks as she begins to build a fire.

 "Where did you go today? What did you see? Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, it's like a walk down memory lane. We came here on vacation when I was-- “         “You are a good listener. What do you do for a living?"

"I practice psychology in a clinic in --"

"Psychology, really, no wonder you're such a good listener. That's why I'm here; my therapist told me that I need to get out of my comfort zone. He says I need to be more self-reliant. That's where I got the tent. He loaned it to me."

I hide a smile as I think to myself, “That's not exactly the way I'd go about encouraging someone to be more self-reliant, by loaning them a tent.” Oh well everyone has to start somewhere. Poor guy probably would have paid for her to go to Hawaii just so he could get a break.”

            "So, you're in therapy?"         

"Yes, ever since the homicide!"

“Homicide,” I'm really glad that I passed on more alcohol now.

She tilts her head to one side as she says in a rather matter of fact manner, "I shot my neighbor in the head ...."

To myself, "Hmmm, not even going to ask how that makes her feel. Oh, I really need a scotch now. But that's not going to happen. Not tonight. Not the least bit sleepy, either". "Want to talk about it?" I ask. The firelight is flickering and I can see her teeth but I cannot tell if she is smiling or grimacing. I hoped she was smiling.         

A wave of relief sweeps over me like a warm embrace. "This is all a prank," I tell myself. "One of my colleagues got in touch with someone local to come out here and spook me as a prank. The first vacation I've had in 25 years and someone pulls a practical joke like this. Yeah, that's it; she's part of a practical joke. She is setting here, telling this like a ghost story as we set around the campfire." I am just about to ask her who put her up to this when I see tears streaming down her face, and she buries her face in her hands and begins to sob, a low moan coming from deep within, wracking her body violently, her breathing now in fast shallow pants. She is in full a blown panic attack right here in the middle of nowhere, with probably the only person within three hundred miles capable of recognizing it, much less doing anything about it.

Taking a slow deep breath I begin to speak, lowering my voice both in pitch and volume. "It's alright, I understand. This is a panic attack and probably not your first. I want you to try and slow your breathing, listen to my voice, and it will help calm you." I drone on in a low monotone. "Squeeze your hands tightly into a fist. Now relax your fist and slow your breathing at the same time. Again very slowly now make a tight fist and inhale slowly. That’s good, now relax your fist and exhale slowly. That's good. This time as you inhale and clench, tighten up your arms and shoulders. That's good; that's real good. You’re doing fine, and exhale as you relax. You are going to a safe place now; flex and inhale and hold it, exhale and relax very slowly. You are going to a place where only you can go. And flexing, inhale deeply, slowly, and hold it, again very slowly exhale. That's very good; you are controlling your breathing now. Again, flex the shoulders and neck as you inhale. Now relax and exhale; you are in a beautiful place now. Inhale, hold it, relax. It's peaceful here, and as you continue these exercises, you notice a soft light shining in the distance. And as it shines on you, it begins to shine through you. Now there is no darkness in you, just a beautiful light shining within you, warming you."    Her breath shudders now as she exhales. The crisis is over. I begin to change my tone nearly imperceptibly. A little more matter of fact. "You can hear birds singing sweetly, you smell the beautiful fragrance of flowers, a warm breeze caresses your face. Continue flexing and relaxing now. And as you do, you notice that the warm breeze blows into you, making you a warmer, calmer person. As you listen to the birds singing in the trees, their song brings you happiness. Yes, and you deserve happiness, you do. The fragrance of the flowers is beautiful. The fragrance fills you with beauty. This is your meadow and it is filled with everything good. There is nothing bad here. There is no pain here. Only goodness, light, warmth, happiness and beauty and you can come here as often as you like. In fact, the more often you come here, the easier it will be to get here. Practice it every day. Especially practice it when you are going to sleep at night, as you relax. And soon, you will be able get in this state of relaxation instantly just by saying, "I'm in my meadow". Her breathing is calm now.

"Thank you Doctor".

"Not Doctor, just Steve".   I don't want any social distance to interfere because her success now depends on a therapeutic relationship. A relationship that has just landed in the middle of my vacation!

            I'm having scotch now, single malt with a beer chaser. "My therapist knew this would happen, didn't he?"

“I don't know; it depends on what type of therapist he is and what he is treating you for..."          

“He says that he is primarily a behaviorist”.

This time I interrupt her, "Treating you for anxiety." Her eyes squint up some, so I explain, "In my opinion, behaviorists are especially well suited for dealing with anxiety. Whatever type of clinical psychology you practice, you can do psychotherapy on a patient regardless of the diagnoses. But some are better suited for depression, like cognitive therapy. And behaviorism is especially good for anxiety. And I can tell that you have made a lot of progress!"

"You can? Do you think I can ever go back to work again?"

"It depends, what do you do?"

"I was a sheriff's deputy, in Seattle. I'm on disability now."

"Well, your therapist will have the final word on that. It's late. And I really need to turn in so thanks for the firewood." I smile as I stand up to let her know that I'm not annoyed but this session is over.

                                                        Chapter Two

            I wake to the smell of coffee, and bacon, and the sound of children laughing as they run and play and instantly I am a nine year old, standing with a book in my hands in the front yard and my mother is setting on the steps with a switch in her hands. Neighborhood kids are running and playing and every time I look off (whack) "Read." My 3rd grade teacher had told her that I was not doing too well at reading and needed extra attention in that area. It turns out that I was easily distracted and reading in the presence of so many distractions with a constant and instant reminder improved my concentration in all areas. And I think, "Hmmm, an effective therapy, but no, it would never be approved. It’s abusive. In my day a spanking—“ 

Screams bring me out of my reflections and I regret having buried myself in blankets, both inside and outside the light weight sleeping bag. I struggle to find the zipper and pull it down. It gets stuck on one of the extra blankets and jams. Meanwhile more screams and more voices are all receding in the distance, and I'm able to discern the panicked voice of a child yelling.

 "It's huge," as he runs in the same direction as the other voices.

I had read about grizzly bears dragging campers out of their tents and I think, "Oh great, a bear must have smelled the cooking and followed his nose and everyone else is running off and I'm stuck here in a bag...” I grab a knife that I had left just outside of the bag in case of an emergency and cut the bag along the zipper, grabbing both sides I pull as hard as I can. The canvas makes a loud screeching sound as it rips down along the zipper and I'm free. I jump up and grab the zipper to the flap that forms the door to the tent and give it a fast jerk. It snags the mosquito net and jams. Plunging the knife through the top of the tent I pull it quickly all the way down to the bottom. Sticking my head out, I look to the right and ... nothing. I look to the left and see a large crowd of people standing around a large male buffalo. Ed and Phyllis are trying to get the crowd to back off and stay a safe distance but everyone wants a picture with the buffalo.

          "OK, I'm in my meadow, and there is..."

            I decide on instant oatmeal, three eggs sunny side up with ham and toast. Shivering as I cook, I can see Tamara's breath as she steams her way toward me like a locomotive, and she has a big smile on her face. And a large cup of coffee in each hand which lights up my face, but only for an instant because I don't want her to think it's because I'm so very glad to see her. It's just that I have always thought that making coffee before you have your morning cup is one of the universe's cruel tricks on mankind because I am not fit to make a decent pot of coffee till I have had at least one cup of decent coffee.

"Good morning."

"Good morning Tamara. Did you sleep well?"

"Beautifully," handing me a cup,

"What happened to your tent?" I turned away so she couldn't see my face turn red.  "It was that redhead from site 23 wasn't it,” she teases.  “I thought you would have to fight her off. Did you know that when you're getting undressed with the light on in your tent, it gives everybody a free shadow show? Aww; your blushing, that's kinda cute."

"I don't blush; it's just the cold air." Warming my hands with the hot cup, I hold the coffee close to my nose as I inhale letting the steam warm and moisten my nose. "Did you see the buffalo this morning?"

"A buffalo, no, where?"

"Right down there, somebody said they thought they heard a mountain lion too." Laughing now she says "I think they must have heard something else," looking at the rip

 from the top to bottom of my tent.

"Really, I wonder what it could have been. I didn't hear anything," as I slide the eggs around in the frying pan to keep them from sticking.

"Really, what happened to your tent?" She doesn't give up easily.

"It was Stormi." She looks puzzled. "The redhead from number 23, that’s her name." I laugh.

She plays along, "A redhead named Stormi. What's her last name, Night?"

"No, but her middle name is Dawn." I banter. We both laugh.

"You’re awful; I'll bet you haven't even talked to her."

“Well, we didn't talk much; look at what she did trying to get into the sleeping bag with me." She looked inside the tent and stared at the torn bag in disbelief. I'm having just a little too much fun with this, but I can't resist.

            Suddenly she is talking about a gas station in Idaho, and a parts store. I'm setting there eating breakfast and looking confused so she explains. “Like I was saying last night when I got the firewood, I was filling up when two men were looking at me and it gave me the creeps. So I drove off and left my locking gas cap on the pump. Now I have to buy a new one.” We continue to pass the time over refills of coffee, and eventually the conversation turns to the sights we plan to see. As a park ranger drives by,  she jumps up and runs over to the road and flags him down. As they talk, he is looking at me in a most unfriendly way. She looks back at me over her shoulder then looks back to him and laughs and shakes her head.

"Good, being law enforcement they will have a lot in common and she will feel safe.  I can go back to enjoying my sightseeing and maybe even get to know the redhead at campsite 23." Contemplating that, a smile creeps up on me. I don't usually smile much before 5 PM.

            "Did you see the buffalo this morning?" It was Ed.

And Phyllis chimes in "And what on earth happened to your tent?"

"Yes I saw him. And that's what happened to my tent."

In unison, "What?" "How?"  I laugh and relate the story about the 'bear attack.' They guffaw at that. Then I share the part about the redhead at site 23, Stormi Dawn. More laughter. The laughter dies down as Tamara comes back over. The ranger gives me a long hard look before driving away. Ed and Phyllis say goodbye and wander off to complete their morning rounds.   Phyllis turns around and with a big smile says, "Tell Stormi Dawn we said hi."

I smile and wave goodbye. Glancing past them down the road, I see the ranger, now at site 23, talking to the redhead.

            "There is an automotive parts store in the little town just outside the gate," Tamara tells me. "So I'm going to drive into town and get a new gas cap."

"That's nice. Looks like the park ranger likes you."

"What? No he just helped me set up my tent yesterday. And came by to see how I'm doing."

"Looks like he finds Stormi Dawn interesting too." Her smile fades for an instant but she recovers gracefully.

"That's nice."  Tamara loads up her Suburban and speeds off to find the parts store. I saunter down the road in the general direction of campsite 23 and whatever surprises the day might offer.

"Hello Texas!" It was the redheaded lady.

I smiled and said, "So you saw my shirt."

"What?"

"I was wearing a shirt with something about Texas on it yesterday. The lady in the camp next to mine thought it was funny. I thought you must have seen it, hence the "Hello Texas".

She laughs "Oh, no I saw your license plate. Nice car by the way."

"Nice car to you too, Minnesota. I love 'vettes."

"And redheads too, according to Ranger Smith, Boo Boo." in a fair Yogi Bear imitation. I turn beet red at being found out. "Oh you're blushing, that's so cute." No way will this pass as a chance encounter while I'm out for a stroll, so I might as well play the hand that's dealt.

"Fast cars and beautiful women, you found me out." I smile.

She laughs and says "Let's start over." Walking over to me "Hi, I'm Susanna."

"Hello Susanna, I'm very pleased to meet you," In my most formal voice. "I'm Steven. I understand there was quite a shadow show last night." Now it's her turn to blush. "AWW, you're blushing, that's so cute."

Her smile falters, but she quickly recovers as I extend my hand with a broad smile. She accepts my offer to shake hands, and places her other hand on my forearm where it lingers as we look into each other’s eyes. My heart races. The skin on her neck turns red as goose bumps rise up and a slight film of perspiration forms on her forehead. It is the morning of day three in the park and I have a vacation girlfriend.

            After lunch we go sightseeing. We decide to take my car because a Firebird is more comfy than a 'vette. Our plan is to make our way to Mammoth Springs. Along the way she turns on my CD player. Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, and Johnny Winters collaborate on a rendition of 'I Just Want to Make Love to You'. I pull in to the parking lot at Monument Geyser Basin and we listen till the song is over. Getting out of the car, we agree to stretch our legs and take snapshots along the way. I'm glad I brought my tripod. I can set the timer and get in the pictures with her. I smile as I tell her, "This vacation is going to be something to remember." Little do I know just how very true those words are! As we stroll down the boardwalk, her hand falls into mine as naturally as if we have been together for years. A warm, beautiful feeling creeps through me and a broad smile twists my face into a smile so big it hurts. As we walk along, I turn my head to look at her once more and find that she is smiling and looking intently at me. We stop as if on command and embrace in a passionate kiss. My head is spinning and I get that drunken feeling as though I'm falling. And I am. Head over heels.

When we come up for air, a small crowd of Japanese tourists has stopped and is snapping pictures and filming. They begin to applaud, all but one, and she has turned her son around so that he can't see and wags a finger at us. "You, get a loom," and marches by, each step stomping the boardwalk. I didn't realize we had been holding up traffic on the boardwalk. We step to one side to allow the group to file by and each produces a wink, smile, thumbs up or combination of all.

The last one to go by stopped and in a heavy Japanese accent says, "You velly rucky man." The 'get a loom ' lady looks back over her shoulder and snaps something in Japanese. It didn't need translation as the man scurries off mumbling apologies.

            We walk around the basin, then visit Steamboat Geyser and Norris Geyser Basin catching evil looks from the 'get a loom lady' every time we cross paths. It doesn't help that all the members of the group continue to snap pictures and make raucous comments; all but the 'get a loom lady's' husband. He hangs his head and looks down whenever his wife is looking, but smiles and winks when she looks a way. We casually stroll back to the car savoring every minute of being together. A chill runs down my spine when we get back to the car. I see the windshield wipers have been broken off and used to scratch the paint on the hood, fenders, doors, and trunk. The back windshield is busted and the gas tank cover had been pried off and is lying on the ground by the rear bumper. The two front tires are flat. "Get a loom lady' must hold a grudge," I try to laugh it off but Susanna is shaken,

"Steven I'm afraid." She turns and clings to my side and I put both arms around her, she is shaking and the color has drained from her face.

"Hey it's just stuff," I lie. That car is my baby. I fell in love with it when I test drove it and have treated it like a lady ever since. A princess is more like it. And that's what I call her, Princess "It's nothing personal. Cars get vandalized every day." She is looking down but slowly looks up into my face.

Her eyes fill and tears begin to trickle down her face, as she stammers out, "It may be. My ex-boyfriend is having a hard time with the breakup." She's sobbing now and I hold her tight, wishing I could squeeze the pain away from her.

            "I left while he was locked up for domestic violence. He just went crazy when I told him it was over. First he cried and begged. He promised he would change. He started sending gifts to me at work. Then he got angry and started calling and cussing me. Then he came to my work and demanded that I give him another chance. When I refused, he knocked me down and kicked me. He said that if he couldn't have me, nobody could. He was still in jail when I got out of the hospital. The lawyer I worked for told me it would be best if I moved and changed jobs. He helped me move to another city and helped me to go to work with a firm there. After a few months, my husband found me. But I was ready, I had an escape plan. I've moved three times since then in two years." She buries her head in my chest and sobs. "Steven, I'm so sorry..."

I touch her under the chin and lift her head, looking deep into her eyes. "It's ok, I understand. And it's not your fault." I continue in a low calm voice. "You did not do this. You did not cause this. And I’m here for you. It’s probably just random, but no matter what we will get through this together.” I could feel her relax as she nestled her head on my shoulder.          

            A ranger patrol car pulls into the parking lot and the ranger grins as he gets out. He tries to smile at Susanna but it was more of a leer. His eyes narrow as he glances at me, and then back to her. “Hello again Stormi Dawn.”

“What?”

“I said good morning.”

 “No, I mean something about a storm.” I laugh and he glares at me so I explain about the bear attack and how I had joked about it with Tamara. Susanna looks up into my face and laughs as if she is having an "aha" moment. The ranger is having an “aha” moment as well, only he isn’t laughing. He seems to grow pensive, taking his hat off and wiping pimples of sweat away before replacing it.

He changes the subject with, “By the way, have you seen Tamara since this morning?”

“No, she left this morning to buy a new gas cap after you told her about the parts store in West Yellowstone.” He looks at me like I’m crazy but shakes it off.

“They have me off looking for her. Her husband called and is all upset because he hasn’t heard from her in several days.”

“Well, he must know she is camping if he called here looking for her.”

“Yeah,” he drawls “but he’s worried because she was kidnapped a few years ago and she never goes this long without calling.” I tell him I remember her trying to use her cell phone this morning but couldn’t get service.

“Kidnapped?” Susanna says.

“No wonder she shot him,” I add. The ranger glares at me and looks like he is about to come at me. I gently push Susanna to the side in preparation. There is definitely something wrong about this guy. I draw myself up and tense up, ready to fight if he attacks. He sizes me up and looks at Susanna as a tour bus pulls into the parking lot with passengers snapping photos and videos.

"Is there any way you could get a wrecker to come up here and tow my car to a shop?"

At first he frowns, then looks at Susanna with a slight smile lighting up his face. He says, "Sure." After making a radio call requesting assistance, he comes back over and says "Can I offer you a ride back to camp?"

I smile and say "Thanks."

He tells me, "I'm sorry but you'll have to stay here till the tow truck gets here."

"Storm...."

"Susanna." she smiles.

“Can I offer you a ride back to camp?”

She leans against me putting both arms around me and leaning her head on my shoulder and says, “We’re together.”

He scowls and walks away. "Poor guy, I guess women really are scarce up here." The ranger drives off and another tour bus pulls in. This time, it's a crowd of retirees.

            Soon Tamara's truck pulls into the parking lot and she gets out with mouth agape. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she says in that twangy northwest accent. "What happened?"

I introduce Susanna and Tamara, and explain the vandalism.

"Susanna? Not Stormi then, you guys... this morning...”

“No, I heard everyone yelling about the buffalo and freaked out. The zipper stuck and I cut my way out of the bag, then..."

"Then the zipper on the tent stuck and you cut it too." We all laughed.

"Can I give you a ride back to camp?"

"Thanks, but no. I have to wait for the tow truck. Thanks though."

She looks at Susanna, Susanna looks at me. "I don't know," I shrug.

Susanna says "I can come back and pick you up?" looking up at me with question marks in her eyes. I don't know what to do. I don't want to start telling her what to do after all she's been through with a controlling boyfriend. But my main concern is what's best for her,  and there is definitely something off about that ranger.

“You know, after what you told me about your ex, I really wouldn't want to let you out of my sight. I really don't mean to try and tell you ...."

She collapses into my arms crying "Thank you." Her chin quivers and her voice shakes, "I was afraid to ask you to let me stay. But I am afraid." I have both arms around her now and I look over her shoulder at Tamara and shake my head. She nods, not knowing the exact details, but understanding never the less.

"I'll stay till the wrecker gets here then."

I tell Tamara about the ranger and her husband's call. At first she is puzzled, then bothered, but gets over it. She starts to talk, telling us about the kidnapping and events that led up to the homicide.

"He was my neighbor. He was a biker and I was a sheriff's deputy. Born enemies I guess. He and his buddies jumped me one evening.”  Her voice trembles and she pauses.

“It's ok, you don't have to explain" Susanna volunteers.

"No, I do though." Susanna sets down beside her and takes her hand.

 "Susanna has some history to deal with too," I tell her. Tamara nods in understanding. She places her other hand over Susanna's and continues, her voice low and steady now. I watch for twitches and other non-verbal signs that indicate she's about to break. There are none. Her therapist has prepared her well. “

“They took me to a cabin in the mountains. It belonged to his brother and they kept me locked up in a horse trailer." Every once in a while she would stop and draw a deep breath with her eyes closed and open them as she slowly exhaled.  "Sometimes they brought me inside to rape me. They always beat me first. I never had anything to eat, so I was so weak I couldn't resist.”

"They never fed you?" Susanna blurts out.  Then Susanna realizes that she has broken the flow of words that Tamara needed to get out. "Sorry".

Tamara continues, "He gave me a piece of leftover sandwich sometimes. He would throw it on the floor and laugh. He liked to pick me up over his head and throw me down on the floor. He and his brother would take turns...." Her voice trembled and her eyes filled but she closed her eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, and slowly opened them as she exhaled. Once again she continued, "It was so cold; I weighed seventy pounds when I escaped."

"How did you escape?" Susanna asks. Tamara smiles and pats her hand for a moment with her eyes closed, breathing deeply and slowly. "I'm so sorry Tamara, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Tamara smiles again, and I say. "It's a relaxation technique."

"Oh, I was afraid I was getting on her nerves." Tamara pats her hand again and gives it a little squeeze as she opens her eyes and exhales.

"It was the oats, for the horses. Someone left them within reach after feeding the horses. I had been there six months and had lost all of my teeth, and he had lost interest in me, except to torment me. He would put me in the truck sometimes and take me to this cave with a deep shaft. He said he was going to throw me down that shaft and they would never find my body. Said he had already thrown two women down there. And someday it would be my turn. So I gorged on oats, I stuffed oats in my pockets; I hid oats everywhere I could and devoured. And waited. I got a little more clear-headed and a little stronger. And I watched. And one day he slipped up. The lock didn't set completely when he locked me up. Later, when the lights went out in the cabin, I pulled down on the lock and Jesus, Mary and Joseph I was free. I went downhill in the dark, it seemed like forever, and finally I came to a road. I flagged down a car. So that was it. I was free." I knew there was more but that was enough for now.

                                                               Chapter Three

 Finally the tow truck arrives and we head back to our campsites. As we turn onto the small road that leads to Madison Campground, we see wisps of black smoke wafting through the lodge pole pines. Tamara said, “That’s not wood burning, or it would be white smoke.” As we grow closer to our campsites, we can smell it. A sense of foreboding grips me and I know that something is very wrong. When we get to camp, we find that my tent has been burned. Nothing left but smoldering ashes and a fire crew talking with the ranger. He grins like a mule when he sees the looks on our faces.

"Oh, no." whispers Susanna. Ed and Phyllis are there, as are many of the campers in our area.

As we get out of Tamara's truck, Ranger Smith stops smiling and with a look of determination on his face, comes up to me and says, "We have rules about fire in this park mister. You're gonna hafta come along with me now."

"I'll be glad to pay any fine but this is not a good time to --"

"We ain't talking about no fine. We're talking about criminal charges. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back”.

“Under whose authority?" I ask.

"Under my authority. This is a National Park under the administration of the Department of the Interior, and I am a National Park Ranger, so by federal law...”“

“I know, I know.  But under whose say so do you accuse me of causing this fire?"

"Well it's your campsite, aint it?"

"Yes, but are you qualified to make a determination of that nature?”

"What?" I know that something is very wrong here, and with everything that has happened so far, something very bad is going to happen if I let him cuff me and take me away. If something bad has to happen, it's best for Tamara and Susanna if it happens right here and right now. I can’t let him split us up. I hate to think what might happen to Susanna if I'm out of the picture. Tamara sees it as well, and steps up in my defense.

"He's right; matters of arson have to be investigated by specialized arson investigators."

“Well, didn’t nobody say it was arson now, but if he left the camp in an unsafe condition, it would  be negligence and..."

"And that's not a criminal offence," chime in Ed and Phyllis.

"Now you two troublemakers, stay out of this or I'll take you in too."

"For what?" They both ask at once."

"Hindrance." he spits out. The crowd is growing larger and people are beginning to grumble.

A bearded man, tall with dark glasses speaks up in a loud voice, "He's just doing his job, let the man do his job."

Another man, heavier and bald says, "Yeah, let him do his job. We could have all been burned to death."

But others in the crowd continue to murmur till a boy in the crowd yells, "Hey! You look like the guy on the wanted poster on the bulletin board by the campground office."

A bystander says, "You know, he kinda does." The bearded man sneers at the boy and looks like he is about to backhand him.

The boy's father steps in front of the boy and says, "I don't advise it mister!" I swear he sounds just like John Wayne.

Meanwhile Tamara has gone pale and is starting to tremble. "That's them,” she says, “from the gas station in Idaho."

Just now Ranger Smith pulls his gun and growls, "Everybody freeze." Everybody freezes except the two men in favor of letting the ranger cuff me. They both draw guns and yell "Everybody down".

The bearded one turns to the big guy and yells, "I said down." And hits him just above the temple with the butt of the gun. The big guy goes down like someone has flipped a switch.

"Everybody but you, darlin." The ranger says as he steps toward Susanna. Tamara was not about to let that happen. Standing just to his left, she delivers a side kick to his knee, and you can hear the bone break.

The boy screams, "That's my father." and kicks the bearded one on the knee. With no time to think, I spin around in time to see the bald one aiming toward Tamara. I lunge forward just in time to knock the gun upward with my right hand. I grab his gun hand at the wrist with my left hand and hit him with the heel of my hand squarely on the nose, hard. He continues to struggle to get free of my grasp; he knows that he is fighting for his life now and isn't going to give up. I hit him twice more as fast as I can as he struggles to twist free of my grasp with one hand and block my blows with the other. This guy isn't going to give up and neither am I. Susanna is screaming. I grab his wrist with both hands now and spin around, raising my left elbow over his arm as I do and clamp his arm between my arm and chest. I can see that Tamara has taken the rangers gun and is leveling it at the bearded one who is trying to take aim at the boy, who by now is running fast, cutting in and out between the trees. He gets off one shot before Tamara drops him from behind. A woman, probably the boy’s mother, screams and faints.

I am still in a fight with the bald guy. Having his arm locked the way I do, and both hands on his wrist, I cannot block his blows to my face with his free hand. He is blinded by the nose hits but is swinging toward my face wildly with the hand open and fingers curled, hoping to land one in an eye. As I am prying his thumb off of the pistol grip, he goes limp. His weight pulls me to the ground with him and I land on top. I finish prying the gun loose and look up to see Susanna, standing over us with a piece of firewood in her hands. Tamara spins around and has the gun leveled at the ranger who is in shock.

The boy is now running back, screaming, "Mother!" His father comes to and looks around in a bewildered daze.

            Tamara takes the ranger's cuffs and puts them on the unconscious bald man. Susanna is tending to the woman that had fainted. Firemen are treating the boy's father that had been knocked out. He is covered with blood and gore, but it is not his. It was from the bearded man that Tamara had shot. His head had virtually exploded from the impact of the hand canon Tamara had taken from the ranger. The lady that had fainted was reviving now and was covered in blood like her husband. As she sat up, she saw her husband with all the blood and screamed, fainting again. The boy is kneeling by her side crying. The big guy keeps asking what happened.

I happen to think of the bearded man's gun and decide that with all the children around, it would be a good idea to recover it. But it's too late. It's already gone. I go over to Tamara and tell her about the missing weapon. We scan the crowd, fearing the presence of another accomplice. I hear the rumble of a big motorcycle engine starting up, and look off in that direction to see three motorcycles, but only one rider. As the lone rider speeds off, I try to get the license plate number, but it is too small and far away. I get a sinking feeling as I realize we still have trouble.

                                                      Chapter Four

Beautiful Indifference

When one talks about hysteria, there is often a rather inappropriate lack of concern expressed by the patient about the very symptoms that have brought them to see you in the first place. This phenomenon is referred to as "la belle indifference", translated literally as “beautiful indifference”.

            Ambulances and ranger's cars are pouring into the campground now. Witnesses are taken aside and interviewed separately. I surrender the weapon that I had taken from the bald man and relate the details of the missing gun and the three motorcycles, two of which are still leaning against their kickstands. The ranger  and I walk down to the site where the two bikes are parked. They sport Washington state plates. When we return to my campsite, I tell Tamara. The ranger interviewing me is on the radio putting out the word for everyone to be on the lookout for a motorcycle with Washington plates. Television and radio crews are arriving now.

Tamara reaches into her truck and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. As she puts them on, she says, "I can't let anyone find out I'm here."

"Why?"

"The bikers were here for me. They were in the same gang that kidnapped me. I killed one of them and several others went to jail. The one I shot had sworn to get me. At my trial, his friends said it was all me, that I loved him. That it was all consensual. "

“At your trial?"

"After I shot him, I was tried for murder. The prosecution had love letters that they said I wrote to him. In those letters, I supposedly went on and on about how much I loved and adored him. Originally, he and his brother were tried for kidnapping, but he got off on a technicality, and his brother was convicted. So he stalked me. Anywhere I went, I might see him staring at me from a distance. One day he was at the gate to my front yard screaming at me. Then he started to run up the sidewalk and burst through the door." She tells me all this in an almost matter-of-fact manner I recognize all too well as “la belle indifference”.  "That's when I shot him and then I was charged with homicide."

"Well no matter if they see you on TV. If these guys knew you were here, others know by now."

"Maybe, but the more that know about it, the more danger we are in." A chill runs down my spine as I realize that “we” includes me and Susanna. And that Tamara is suffering from some form of conversion disorder.

            The District Ranger calls out to the other rangers and makes an up and down pumping motion with his right hand in a closed fist. The other rangers hustle toward him with a sense of urgency.

 "We have a ranger down," he tells them. "At the scene, we have the suspect's motorcycle, but the ranger's patrol car is missing. He now has access to our radio communication and the ranger's weapons and equipment. Restrict all radio communications to the emergency channel with the sub channel .04 and land based telephone communications. This is no longer an attempted kidnapping or a fugitive manhunt. It is a murder investigation." Reporters and cameramen have noticed the assembly of rangers and are hurriedly making their way to catch the breaking news.

 "Landry!"

"Sir?"

"No reporters within earshot of the crime scene. Move!"

"Yes Sir!" Landry responds as he spins around and hurries to fend off the approaching mob of media

"Johnson!"

"Yes Sir."

"Get to the campsite check-in station, and use their phone. Report this status to every park gate. All gates closed. No one allowed in or out. No park service vehicles allowed out. Coordinate with headquarters for road blocks at every intersection. Also, alert local and state law enforcement within a two hundred mile radius of emergency channel protocol. When attempting contact with any suspected ranger vehicle, the call sign is 'Cowboys’. The counter call sign is 'Dallas Dallas'. Make it happen, ranger."

"Yes Sir!"

He continues to bark orders and rangers rush off in ones and twos to their various tasks.

            Susanna is shaking again now and I put one arm around her and pull her close for comfort. I raise my other arm and invite Tamara for a hug too. The closeness and warmth strengthens and comforts all three of us. A helicopter passes overhead, following the park road.

            The District Ranger has finished assigning duties to the various rangers. Two rangers are standing with him as he turns to us. "I'm assigning these two rangers for transportation and security with regard to you three. Can we count on your cooperation?"

"Cooperation? Aren't we free to go?" Susanna asks in a shaky voice.

"This is an active investigation ma’am. You are not only witnesses, but we have reason to believe that you may be targets for reprisal."

"All the more reason to get the hell out of Dodge," I tell him.

"I can't allow that sir. It is our responsibility to protect you."

“It was that ranger's duty to protect and serve too, but he was the one that pulled a gun on us and tried to take Susanna."

"I understand your concern, but I assure you that Aikman and Smith here ..."

"Aww, come on now. What is with you and the Dallas Cowboys?"

"Team member titles sir. Each member has a specific function. Each team has a Landry for public information. Johnson’s are liaison with local and state law enforcement. Aikman and Smith carry the ball; that's the three of you. Members can fill in from one team or another as needed."

Aikman speaks up "Sir, where is Switzer?"

"I will be working with you two till Switzer from another team arrives."

"Sir?"

 "It was John that was murdered." The two rangers are silent for a moment as the news sinks in.

Aikman, "But sir, Switzer has the playbook." Just as he gets this out of his mouth, there is a little pop and a clump of dirt flies up off the ground in front of him. His eyes glaze over and blood drips down the side of mouth as he crumbles to the ground. Then we hear the shot.

Smith yells "Take cover." He and the District Ranger grab Susanna and me and start us moving toward a boulder by Tamara's Suburban. Tamara is already there.

Smith declares, "He knows the plan sir." The District Ranger never hears him. He is on his face by the time the second shot rings out. Susanna is screaming.

Smith says, "He must be up on that hill from the angle of the shot."

Tamara adds, "Two full seconds between impact and the sound of the shot arriving. Must be up pretty high."

"Yeah," I add.  ”Now that he has us pinned down, he'll circle around till he has a clear shot from another direction. That gives us a couple of minutes to come up with a plan. Do you have the keys to your truck with you?"

 "They are in it."

"Alright, I'll make a dash for it. Give me ten seconds to get in and get it started; then hit the keypad to unlock the doors. Then you make a break and get in and ..."

"No, no, no!" It's Susanna. "Don't leave me."

The ranger says, "He'll pick you off. This guy is good."

"Not if he's on the move, which he is sure to be. He doesn't have all the time in the world and he knows it." A camera man is filming us from behind a lodge pole pine. A reporter is talking into a microphone, and I see Landry, the ranger responsible for public information is prone, behind a rock panning the hill side through a hi-power telescope mounted on a rifle. I nudge Smith and Tamara and nod toward the other ranger.

Smith calls out, "See him, Landry?"

"You'll be the first know. The bullet will be going right over your head."

"We are going to make a run for it when you fire. Keep firing after that first shot to keep his head down in case you miss, and give us a chance to get out of here.”

“I don't plan on missing."

"Well there may be more than one. Just do it. We need covering fire."

            A few moments later we hear "Hut 1, hut 2, hut 3," then the blast from the muzzle of Landry's high powered rifle. It was followed immediately by the clacking sound of Landry chambering another round and another muzzle blast.

"Hike!" Smith grabs Tamara's arm and heads toward the Suburban. Another blast and more rapid clacking, then another blast and Smith is behind the wheel. Another blast and the tires are spinning as we take off, another and we are approaching the road that runs parallel to Madison River. In the distance, we hear that muffled report from up on the hill and Landry's gun falls silent.

Smith says, "We're almost there, we're going to..." He slumps over the wheel and we hurtle past the turn, down the slope and into the rapids of Madison River. The truck floats briefly in the shallow rapids and the current turns the front of the truck downriver before the tires settle on the rocky river bottom. I'm steering from the back seat and the current provides us with enough of a push to keep us moving downstream and out of range, I hope. I find that if I start to turn far enough in advance, I can steer around the boulders in the stream, and if I can keep it up, we just might make it down to the next bend where we will be out of sight, if not out of range. Then the chassis gets hung up and we are stopped. Water is piling up against the back of the truck and lifts the rear as it flows under the frame, and suddenly we are free and moving downstream again. Finally we make the bend in the river. The water is a little deeper here, and some has seeped in under the doors, making the Suburban heavier. The engine has long since died, making it nearly impossible to steer. We half float, half coast down the river, every heartbeat taking us further from the killer, and whatever help there may be. Well, they haven't been much help so far anyway. I'm for staying in the current till it takes us as far as we can go. I remember from the map at Madison Campground that the Madison River snakes down till it crosses the road just before the park gate and the town of West Yellowstone. I just hope there are no waterfalls.

            We finally come to rest with the front axle jammed against rocks sticking up too high to get past. "Do you have a weapon Tamara?"       

She pulls a 357 out from under her seat. "Never leave home without it."

I take the ranger's weapon and extra ammunition. "Any food or drinking water? It may be eight or nine miles to town."

She pulls out a pack loaded with hiking gear. "I was hoping to do some back country hiking and camping. I think we'll have everything we need for a little stroll like that.” She sees me looking around for any other things that might come in handy. She pulls out a short barreled 12 gauge pump shotgun and says, "Looking for something like this."

I smile. "Exactly like that. Alright!!! We picnicked along this river and swam in it when I was a kid. It's not real deep but the current is fast. The road is over there on the far side of the river about 200 yards from the bank. Let’s stick to this side of the river. We can climb up into the hills and have the advantage of cover and height. We can see anyone coming across the flood plain and trying to cross the river.”

"Sounds like a plan," from Tamara. I look at Susanna, she nods in agreement, eyes wide like saucers.

"Ok, when we get out, the vehicle might shift and float some. So let’s all do it at the same time. Ready?" They both shake their heads in agreement. “On three, I'll jump out and steady myself against the open door and help pull you to safety.” Susanna nods. “Tamara, you get out the front door at the same time. I'll turn around and help you as soon as I get Susanna to firm footing.”

 "Don't bother; I'll be over there helping you out by then." She was moving the ranger's body and getting ready to open the door. I have one hand on the door lever and the other hand in Susanna's. "One, Two, Three," Tamara's door opens and is ripped off by the force of the water. Tamara jumps out and lands in knee-high water. The current knocks her down and starts carrying her down river. My door is jammed from the abuse of the river; the truck is shifting now and I lean back and kick the door with both feet. The Suburban shifts a little more and I kick again and the door tries to open a little. I take the shotgun and fire at the latch, chamber another shell and fire  again and the door begins to open. The water pressure catches the door and forces it open with a loud screech; then it too is ripped off the truck's frame. The truck is moving again now with the current, but the front axle is still wedged against some rocks so the current is spinning the vehicle around until it is broadside to the current. If we jump out now and the truck clears the rocks, we will be crushed as the current pushes it down river and over us. Suddenly, the current is too much and the rocks under the axle begin to roll. We are being pushed along sideways now, but the rear end of the truck is moving faster than the front end, causing a slow spinning motion. Finally, the front of the truck catches the main stream of the current, and we are moving down river backwards. If it continues to spin, the current will be a torrent coming through the two open doors. I grab the pack and throw it out the door. Grabbing the shotgun, I slip it over my shoulder and down across my back. I grab Susanna's hand and we bail out into the icy river. The sudden loss of weight causes the Suburban to draw more water underneath and it starts to spin again. When the water catches the cavity caused by the two missing doors full on the  side, the vehicle rolls over on its side and over again and again. We are swimming as hard and fast as we can against the current, but are still being pulled downstream by the river. The Suburban continues to roll in the current toward Tamara. I begin to swim slightly to the right, but still swimming upstream, and Susanna follows my lead. She is a strong swimmer. It seems like forever, but finally I feel my feet and knees touching bottom. I scramble to stand up, and find that I am in knee deep water. I look and see that Susanna is not doing well against the current and dive in, swimming downstream with the current. By swimming with the current instead of against it, I am there in seconds. I reverse my position so that I am on my back with my head upstream. I allow the water to wash me underneath her, then grab her hands and plant my feet firmly into the bottom of the riverbed. The force of the water pushes me upright, and I pull Susanna upright with me. Picking her up, I use her weight to help keep the flow from washing my feet out from under me and wade to the bank. As I set her down on her feet, we both turn and run downriver yelling and screaming for Tamara. The suburban is still tumbling downriver, making such a screeching sound,  we can hear nothing else. Finally it comes to rest upside down against a boulder.

We continue running and yelling and suddenly, there she is, running toward us. "I told you I'd be here waiting for you." We collapse into the grass warmed by the afternoon sun and laugh till we cry. Then laugh some more.

                                                         Chapter five

            Spotting Tamara’s pack on the river bank a couple of hundred yards down river, I trot down to retrieve it. It has washed ashore on our side of the river just where the river makes a bend to the right. Tamara and Susanna walk along behind, saving what strength they have left for the climb up the hill side.

            Tamara knows how to pack a hiking bag. It was tight and full and waterproof. And surprisingly light. After retrieving the pack, I adjust the straps to fit me. Keeping my eyes fixed on the plain across the river, I sling the pack across my back. Susanna asks, "Can't we just wait for the rangers to find us? I'm exhausted."

"That's probably just what the sniper is doing right now. Just waiting for the rangers to find us, then sit back and pick us all off one at a time.“

“And I don't think he'll start with the rangers this time," adds Tamara.

            Taking one last look off across the flood plain, I turn and start heading up hill and into the cover of the forest.

"I have binoculars in a side pocket of the pack," Tamara says.         

"You think of everything Tamara."

"I try." She opens the pocket on the pack and gets out the binoculars and takes one last look around before we disappear into the forest. We are nearing the top of the hillside as the sun is setting. We find a small clearing and lay in the remaining sunlight, savoring the warmth of the earth and resting.

The chill of the night air begins to creep in, and as I scan up and down the riverbed and the plain between the bank and the road that leads into West Yellowstone, I notice the last rays of sunshine shining on a westward facing outcropping of stone nearby. “That ought to block the wind and the rocks will be warm deep into the night.”

Making our way over, we find a warm place to rest and Tamara opens her pack full of goodies. “Dry socks and underwear for the ladies,” she smiles.  Not the shear kind that men like to imagine, but actual thermal underwear. And lightweight emergency blankets with high calorie energy bars attached. They are delicious and refresh us as the calories replace the fuel we have burned up during our daylong ordeal.

            Tamara unrolls a woolen blanket and stands with arms spread wide while Susanna changes clothes behind it. The unveiling reveals a Susanna that looks terribly thin and skinny in Tamara's long johns. She blushes when she realizes that I am looking at her. Tamara digs into her pack and comes up with an emergency poncho for me, some chemical hand and foot warmers and freeze-dried MREs. I open bottled water and rehydrate the freeze dried meals and warm them on a small pile of hand warmers while Susanna holds up the blanket for Tamara to change behind. Then it's time for me to change. They look at each other and smile, then back to me. Neither offers to hold up a blanket. They are smirking now and I take the poncho and put it on over my clothes and then begin to undress. They pretend to pout so I wiggle my hips a little and we all laugh. We eat the MREs as we lean against the stones that have been warmed by the sun all afternoon, and huddle under the blankets. The hand and foot warmers are at our feet and the edges of the blankets are weighted down with stones to keep the wind out and the warmth in. It's not 5 stars, but we will not freeze.

It's nearly dawn now; a reddish hue tints the eastern sky. Shivering as we huddle together, we suddenly freeze as we hear the chopping sounds of a helicopter drawing near. The sound grows louder as it approaches, then begins to fade into the distance. We all know what that means. It is time to get out of sight before they make another pass when there is enough light to reveal us. We scramble to get dressed. There’s no time for modesty now; besides it's too cold. We repack what's left of Tamara's bag of goodies and hurry off into the cover of the forest. As the sun comes up, we scan the river and road for any sign of activity. At first I think it is shadows I see moving as the morning sun comes up, but no, it is definitely something moving, almost flowing  as it gets closer to the river. As the sun gets brighter and brighter, it seems to spread out and disperse like a fog, only black. Tamara is looking through her binoculars now and mumbles "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

 "What?" I ask. She hands me the binoculars and I look at this amorphous mass spreading out so sinisterly as it slowly creeps toward our position.

"Oh!"

“What is it?” Susanna snatches the binoculars and peers down the hillside. "Oh look, they have babies." It is a herd of buffalo that had been tightly packed for warmth and safety through the night, now spreading out as they head for the river to drink at sunrise.

            We hear the chopper coming again, flying low this time. To my horror I see an MRE wrapper blowing in the wind, with the motion causing the shiny surface to reflect the sunlight like a signal. The chopper slows to a hover over the clearing and starts to descend. Then just when we begin to think that maybe it's for the best, and that we can get in and be shuttled away to food and warmth and safety, a shot rings out. It comes from nearby. The pilot slumps forward and the bird nose dives into the clearing. The crash is deafening. Susanna started to scream but Tamara and I put our fingers to our lips in a silent warning not to make a sound.

Tamara whispers, "Do you think he knows we are here?"

Susanna looks at me, eyes wide like saucers, terrified.

"No! Not yet. He wouldn't have shot the pilot. He would have shot us. He is tracking us, but he just gave his position away."

 "What are we going to do?" Susanna whispers.

"Fight back!" Tamara and I say at the same time.

I begin to dig a small hole with my pocket knife. Taking a shotgun shell and a ballpoint pen, I fashion a booby trap for anyone that might try tracking us. When the hole is deep enough, I push the pen into the earth at the bottom of the hole. Then I place the shotgun shell on top of the pen and fill the hole around it, leaving the shell sticking up above ground about half an inch. I place pine needles all around the hole and on top of the shell. "If he is tracking us, he will have to come by here, and if he steps on this, the cartridge will go off like a little land mine."

"If he steps on it," Susanna says.

"Then let's make sure he does." I rummage through the pack discarding things in order to find something to distract our tracker. Then I find the prize. A bra! I hang it from a limb over the little booby trap. "If he takes it for a trophy, then he is sure to step on the land mine. Let's get out of here."

            Walking among the trees, just below the crest of the hill, we discuss our strategy, "It's no good trying to run from someone that can track that well, Susanna," I explain. "And the further we get, the more of an advantage he has with that rifle. Pistols and a shotgun are short range weapons and give us the advantage. It takes longer to aim through a scope, which he must have. So we need to take up defensive positions and wait."

Tamara agrees. We switch back after a couple of dozen yards and go uphill. Seeing a natural fortress of fallen logs and debris that has jammed up between trees, I stop and look back toward the booby trap. You can see the bra swinging in the breeze form here.

            "Declination of fire and a good view of the target. Perfect killing zone. Perfect ambush sight. You take this one and I'll move on up and around and find a spot with another angle." Tamara nods in agreement.

"What about me?" whispers Susanna?

I give her hand a little squeeze, smile, and say "We're together!" I was remembering what she had told the ranger when he offered her a ride. She remembers too and blushes as she smiles. I can see little goose pimples rise up on her neck and felt them on mine too. We both know we might not get out of this alive and I want to kiss her at least one more time beyond anything I've ever wanted. She must feel it too, because she leans toward me and we kiss like it might be last thing we ever do.

"Get a room," Tamara hisses. But she's all smiles.

She nods toward the ambush site and says, "Business first." She's right of course, but that's one kiss neither of us would ever regret.

                                                               Chapter Six

            It's a tie. Three of them and three of us; sudden death playoff. I think the rangers on the team that died for us would like that. The one in front is doing the tracking. The next in line is left handed. He carries the rifle with his left hand on the grip  and his right hand half way down the stock. He was ready to throw the rifle up to his shoulder and fire at the blink of an eye if a target gives him an opportunity anywhere to his right. The third was right handed and carried his weapon in the same manner. One hand on the pistol grip and the other, half way down the stock. Snap and fire is what we called it in the army. Close range, you don't need to draw a bead. Soldiers had died in Viet Nam because they took the stance they had been taught, aimed the way they had been taught, and died before they could pull the trigger the way they had been taught. In a firefight at close range, whoever gets the most lead in the air first, wins. The tracker stops just short of the booby trap. I grimace at the pun. He is not going for it. I hope Tamara is ready, but it's time, whether she is or not. I aim for the one at the end of the line. I know the impact will knock him to the right since I'm on his left. I want to knock him into the one in front of him so I aim for his right shoulder breaking all the rules. The rules say aim for center of mass, so if you miss a little either way, you still hit something. But this is a shotgun and I'm going to hit something. I take a deep breath slowly exhale and squeeze the trigger till thunder roars down the hillside. The man spins around and lurches into the one in front of him Tamara takes care of business from her end and the tracker is airborne as the 357 slug gives him the ride of his life. He is dead before he hits the ground somewhere downhill. The impact from behind causes”Lefty” to stagger forward and fall to his knees. His right knee lands directly on the hidden shell. Tamara is approaching cautiously, and I start to come in from behind. “Lefty” is writhing in pain and the one I shot in the shoulder is face down on the ground. I walk over to”Lefty” when I hear the other wounded man rolling over behind me. I spin around, but am too late. Susanna nails him right in the heart. I turn around and Tamara is standing over the remaining wounded man. "How many others?"

 "Go to hell, bitch."

She cocks the 357 and says, "How many others?"

"I'm telling you nothing, whore." She pulls the trigger and his right knee turns into a geyser of blood and bone and cartilage. Then she takes the sling from the rifle and fashions a tourniquet.

When she is finished, she pours a little water in his mouth, reviving him. He comes to coughing and sputtering, choking on the water. His eyes are wide with pain and terror. She puts the pistol to his head right between the eyes and says, "How many?" He headbutts the barrel of the pistol trying to make it go off. "I'll do it, you know I will." He lays his head back grimacing in pain but manages a faint smile between gasps of air. She cocks the pistol again, and he closes his eyes.

 "That's what he wants Tamara. He knows he's finished out here alone and wounded. The best he can hope for is a quick end to his pain, which would be better than having the rangers find him like this after all he has done to their friends."

She uncocks the gun and smiles, “Let him rot then."

As she starts to turn away he spits, "I ain't afraid of rangers. Some of em's friends."

I tell her, "Let’s go, the bears will take care of him." He looks a little less defiant at that. She shrugs and turns away like she could care less.

"With all the noise to get their attention and the smell of so much blood, grizzly bears will be here soon. We better get moving." She smiles as she says that. "Yeah, he'll be their first warm meal since coming out of hibernation."

"Unless they eat his friends first," Susanna adds.

Tamara laughs, "Yeah, if the wolves leave 'em any." We start gathering weapons and ammo from the bad guys, and search for anything else we can use. Susanna is searching the one she shot with the ranger’s gun when she stands up with a smile and says, "Look, jerky."

Tamara walks over and takes a piece and says, "Umm, breakfast." Looking at the wounded man she says, "Tell your friend thanks for me when you get to hell."

"You're a cold bitch."

She pulls the bra down from the branch and kicks him in what used to be his knee, making it bleed some more as he screams in pain and anguish. She watches him and continues eating the jerky till he calms down some, "You're going to be pretty cold yourself before too long. But you're going to be a big steaming pile of bear shit first.” Then she grinds the bra into his wound, soaking the material with blood, smiling into his face as he screams some more.

"I remember you, ya know!" Horror fills his face as he realizes that she is going to enjoy this.

Meanwhile, I'm going through the trackers things and stand up saying, "Good news."

"What is it?" Susanna asks.

"Looks like we have horses." I hold up the receipt for them to see. "He rented four horses yesterday evening."

"Where are they?" Tamara asks the man on the ground still bleeding from the knee and moaning.

His eyes open wide now and he shakes his head.

"Ok, good!" And she hangs the bloody bra back on the limb. "Just to make sure the scent wafts as far and wide as possible. Wouldn't want any bears going hungry with so much fresh meat lying around. She turns around toward us, “Let's go, he's not going to tell us anything," she says.

"Wait, wait. Don't leave me like this. PLEASE!"

"I remember begging like that," Tamara says. "What was it you told me? Oh yeah, ’You got nothing I want.’ “With that she turns and walks away.

He's begging me now. "Please, PLEASE MISTER!" I just turn and walk away after Tamara. Now he's looking at Susanna. A look of disgust mingled with contempt crosses her face as she remembers the kidnapping she escaped yesterday and how it could be her begging instead of him. She turns and follows me. "Ok," he screams. “The horses are back on the other side of the clearing, back where you came up from the river."

Tamara turns and says "How many of you?"

"All of us, all of us. Everyone that's left after...” Tamara puts him out of his misery with one shot between the eyes.

                                              Chapter Seven