Snow Bound Page 9

  Later he found a few bits of string and tied them together to make one long piece. He didn’t need a lot of line, only enough to get into the water. He used a bent safety pin as a hook, and baited it with a small piece of potato sprout.

  He used the outhouse, then went down to the stream, looking for a pool where he could let down his line. Snow was falling. He found a flat rock, cleared a place for himself, and squatting down, dropped his line slowly into the water. He could see the baited hook sinking down like a white worm.

  At first nothing happened. He waited impatiently, hunkered down, his legs slowly turning bone cold, the falling snow stinging his bare neck. A small fish flashed toward the bait. It sniffed, nibbled, and then before it could spit the bait out, Tony snatched up the line and hooked it in the gills. A small five-inch trout. There were several more near misses, but finally he landed another fingerling, and three shiny, dark suckers.

  In the cabin he cut each little fish in half, cleaned it, then skewered them one by one on the knife, broiling first one side then the other over the fire. He ate all of them down to the bones, including the heads. Then he licked his fingers and went to sleep.

  As soon as he awoke the next morning, his eyes fell on Cindy’s scarf lying across the bottom of the mattress. Cindy’s scarf. She’d given it to him before he left and he’d worn it around his head on the whole trip.

  He threw himself out of bed, angered and irritated. He broke up the last kitchen chair for the fire and then hammered open a can of beans. He ate the beans cold from the can, scooping them up with his fingers. Cindy the Lady would give him a lecture on that Cindy.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said. “Don’t worry so much, I’m coming!”

  But he put it off one more day. He couldn’t resist the lure of the cot, the seven blankets, the heat of the fire, and the mushy, spicy taste of fish, rice, and ketchup. That rice and ketchup! He could have gone on eating that for the rest of his life and been happy.

  That night, before going to sleep, he made his preparations for the return journey. He packed sugar and tea, and the three remaining cans of food into a blanket roll. He made straps for the roll by cutting the plastic tablecloth into strips, which he tied around the blanket and under his armpits. He’d found a pair of gray wool socks with holes in the heels, and he stuffed these in a side pocket of his jacket. Then he lay down to sleep. In the morning he’d start back.

  16

  RED WINTER BIRD

  When Cindy saw Tony coming down the hill late Monday afternoon, his face flaming, a crazy pack on his shoulders, and her scarf knotted under his chin, she thought at first she was hallucinating. She’d waited to see him for so many days that now she didn’t believe it. She watched him come closer and closer, getting bigger and bigger, and still she didn’t make a sign. And then he was banging on the locked car door, and she rolled down the window, feeling her face split in a tremendous smile.

  Tony came sliding into the car, shivering and stamping. She grabbed him, meaning to kiss him, but he turned his face and the kiss landed on his ear. Never mind. He was here! She wasn’t alone anymore. He’d only found a deserted hut at the edge of a stream, but she was too happy to have him back to be disappointed.

  “I thought you would have been rescued by now,” he said.

  “Nobody came.”

  “We’ll go back to the hut tomorrow,” he said. “Well take whatever we can from the car.” His eyes darted around impatiently. “Boy, this car—what a mess! Can you walk okay now?”

  That was her good news. “Do you think I was sitting in the car all the time you were gone?” She pointed to the wood she’d gathered, told him how she’d restarted the fire, and the way she’d learned to make hot water. She was eager to share her experiences. “My feet are much better, and now that you’re back, if I had a teabag and a spoonful of sugar, life would be really sweet!”

  Like a genie, Tony reached into his jacket pocket and produced a tea bag and a little plastic sack of sugar. Immediately, Cindy boiled snow in the ashtray on top of the oil can. She dipped the teabag in the boiling water just long enough to color it Then she carefully added a pinch of sugar.

  “Put in more,” Tony said. “Go on, don’t be so stingy. There’s plenty where that came from.”

  From the way he described the camp it sounded as if he’d discovered Aladdin’s cave. “Mattresses and blankets, and the stove is half the size of this car. Hey, did I tell you there’s an outhouse?”

  “An outhouse. What luxury! Tell me again what’s in the cupboard,” she said. She put a bit more sugar into the tea. She wanted to conserve everything. They still weren’t rescued.

  They took turns sharing the tea, eating slivers of cold corned beef from the can. “This must be the greatest gastronomical experience of my life,” Cindy said.

  “You and your five dollar words,” Tony said. “You haven’t changed.”

  She looked at him seriously. “But I have, Tony. Those days alone …” They had to make a person different. “I’ve changed a lot.” Now, she thought, was the time to share her notebook.

  “You want any more corned beef?” he said.

  She had the notebook open in her lap, but Tony showed so little interest that she finally put it away. It didn’t mean that much, she told herself, but she was disappointed.

  Later that night they each had a blanket to wrap themselves in. Tony was asleep almost instantly. She listened to him breathing in the back seat. They had agreed to alternate sleeping and watching the fire, but he was exhausted and sleeping so soundly that she didn’t bother waking him for his turn. It was easier for her. She was used to the routine of napping and waking.

  In the morning it was snowing again, and the wind was blowing fiercely. The clouds were low and heavy, and the interior of the car was filled with gloom. Tony opened his eyes, looked out the window, then shut them again. “You look awful,” she said.

  “I don’t feel so hot.” He cracked the window to peer outside, letting in a blast of snow. “Snow! I hate it,” he muttered.

  He slept all day while Cindy kept watch on the fire. He woke several times, each time saying they’d start for the cabin in a little while, each time falling asleep almost immediately. Toward evening the snowfall stopped, and a weak trickle of sun came through the clouds. Cindy went out and brought in a load of wood. Her feet were in good shape now. Thinking about the trip to the cabin she jumped up and down to get in condition. Suddenly a scrap of red in a tree caught her eye. It was a red cardinal, slender and proud, tail working. He was vivid, almost unreal against the white landscape. She took a step toward him, a question on her lips. She wanted to know how he kept himself so beautiful in all this desolation. But he rose into the air, dipped, and disappeared.

  It was dark when Tony woke up again. He said he felt better. She handed him a container of hot water and a slice of corned beef. “I was dreaming,” he told her. “I was home and we were having supper. My sisters were there, and my Uncle Leonard. My mother passed me the hamburgers and my sister Evie gave me her orange soda.” He swallowed. “I want to get out of this place. I want to go home.”

  They looked at each other. What could she say? Home. The very word made her eyes prickle with tears. It was a week and a day since they’d gone off the road. In all that time, nobody had come. She had stopped believing that anyone was looking for them—at least not in the right places. Now she only wanted to hang on, to keep her strength so she’d be alive when they finally came.

  17

  YELLOW SNOWMOBILES

  In the morning Tony was impatient to go. It was a perfect blue, icy day. He went outside and began yanking on the hood of the car. He pried at the hinges with the lug wrench. The car didn’t matter anymore. He was sick of the car, sick of the smoky fire and the cramped life. They were walking away today and not coming back. Sweat sprang out on his forehead and he tired quickly. “What I need is a crowbar,” he grunted. Cindy found a rock and began banging on the hinges.


  As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Tony’s initial good humor faded. He hated the car. It was fighting him, holding him back. When the hood didn’t come off easily he was ready to bash it in, destroy it totally. Finally one hinge snapped, and then with both of them twisting on the hood, the other hinge bent and gave. Breathing hard, they flipped the hood over into the snow. The rounded front end rose like the prow of a toboggan. Tony attached a long piece of rope to it and the sled was ready to go.

  They lifted everything of value from the car. The flashlight, knife, can opener and lug wrench all went into the green duffel bag. They took the blankets, their ashtray kettle, and the fire can, which they’d keep alive on the way. For insurance Tony soaked some rags in the last of the gasoline in the tank and stored them in the empty cookie tin.

  Everything was piled onto the sled. “Let’s go,” Tony said.

  “It’s like leaving home.” Cindy was peering into the blackened interior of the car. “It looks so empty and ruined.”

  “Come on,” Tony urged. The wrecked car gave him a bellyache. He had the rope over his shoulder and was pulling the sled.

  “One minute,” said Cindy.

  Breathing impatiently over her shoulder, Tony waited while she wrote a note. “We waited for you more than a week and you didn’t come. We’re trying to get back to a hunting camp Tony found. Maybe two or three miles from here going west, near a brook. Please come soon. We’re hungry and cold and don’t know how much longer we can hold out.” She printed their names on the bottom, and then they both signed to make it official.

  Tony inserted the note under the horn ring inside the car and then shoved the keys under the sun visor. The last thing they did was clear the snow off the roof. It was later than Tony had meant to start, but they were on their way.

  His old trail had been obliterated by the new fall of snow, but at the moment he wasn’t worried. He’d snapped branches, so there were landmarks. With the sun at their back, the direction was generally westward.

  At first the climb went well—not fast, because they were plowing through deep snow, but they were moving steadily. Behind him, he could hear the steady crunch of Cindy’s steps like the sound the dentist made tamping silver into a tooth. He did most of the sled hauling, but she took her turn, and when it got stuck she was right there to push.

  Showing off a little, Tony pointed to animal tracks that crossed their path. “Rabbit,” he said at the arrangement of two short and two long tracks. “Fox.” He pointed to an arrow-straight track. Deer were easy and so were bird tracks. As they plodded on there were other tracks that weren’t so good, big padded prints. Dog prints. “Wild dogs. They run in packs.” He told her about the night he’d slept under the spruce tree, and she looked queasy.

  “Do you think they would have attacked you?”

  “Animals are afraid of people,” he said.

  The climb was wearying. They stopped talking. At the top of a rise, Cindy said, “I have to sit down,” and dropped onto the sled. Tony leaned against a tree. He was cold and uncomfortable.

  “Which way now?” Cindy asked.

  He saw the slashed pine and a familiar rock face. “That way.” He pointed west. He was no longer so sure of the way he’d gone before, but it seemed right. There was no use saying anything else. “I see signs,” he said definitely, immediately swallowing the little anxiety he felt.

  The sound of the snowmobiles seemed to be coming from all around them, growing louder and louder so Tony thought that any second the machines would burst through the woods into sight. “Here!” he shouted. “Here we are!”

  But almost as quickly as the sounds had come up they began to fade. Tony knew they hadn’t been seen. Their cries hadn’t been heard. Nobody could hear anything over the noise of those machines.

  For a long time they stood listening, as long as the faintest drone of the motors could be heard. Of all the rotten luck. People—rescuers—had been so close and they hadn’t been seen. The cabin was forgotten. They had to reach the snowmobilers. Find the snowmobile tracks and follow them. They were so close to being rescued. “Hurry,” Tony said. “Hurry.” They set off at once, Tony’s eyes fixed on the spot where he thought he’d seen the yellow machines.

  “Wait for me,” Cindy called. She was dragging behind him.

  “Can’t you go any faster? What’s the matter with your?”

  “My feet hurt,” she called back.

  He muttered to himself. She was always slowing him down. Right from the beginning she’d been bad luck.

  Ahead of them was a long, sloping decline. When they reached the bottom they would be almost at the woods through which the snowmobiles had disappeared. It was Tony’s idea that they get on the sled and ride it down the long slope. Cindy was reluctant, but Tony wasn’t listening. “We have to move. Do you want to catch those people, or don’t you?”

  The ride started beautifully, with Tony kneeling in front holding the lock and Cindy behind him gripping the rope. The sled moved slowly at first, but gradually it picked up speed, moving faster and faster until they were racing down the hill like an arrow. Tony laughed exultantly as the wind whistled against his face. Trees and rocks whipped by, his eyes stung with excited tears. Now they were moving! They were going to be saved! “Saved!” he shouted.

  “Too fast,” Cindy screamed in his ear. He laughed derisively, but a moment later they were going so fast that there was no stopping or controlling the sled. He tried to turn it with his body. The sled glanced off some rocks, then spun around and kept on its mad course, Tony barely aware that Cindy had been thrown off.

  The ride ended suddenly and disastrously, as Tony shot through a line of thin bushes and over the edge of a steep ravine, the sled flying out from under him in midair. For a moment he was flying, too, trees and bushes below him, and then with a sickening thud he hit the ground.

  Above him he heard Cindy calling, yelling his name. He started to pull himself up, thinking he’d only had the wind knocked out of him, but when he tried to stand, his left leg buckled and he fell back. The dread that had been growing in him from the beginning, when he’d wrecked his mother’s car and they’d been marooned in the snow, now overwhelmed him. It had all come to this. His leg was broken. He couldn’t go on. There was no way in the world that they’d be saved now.

  18

  TOO YOUNG TO DIE

  Cindy lay in the snow where she’d been thrown, deep, deep in the snow. She closed her eyes against the hateful white all around her, trying not to think, wishing she could go to sleep and never wake up. She didn’t know what had happened to Tony. She was afraid to look. She ached everywhere. She lay there, letting herself sink into the enormous white stillness.

  Oh, my God, God, God, God. Oh, my God.

  Get up, Cindy.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. No, she’d never get up.

  Get up! Up! Move!

  Leave me alone … I’m tired … so tired …

  Cindy Reichert, get up. On your feet. Right now.

  Reluctantly, unwillingly, she struggled to her feet. Snow was in her eyes and in her mouth and down the back of her neck. Carefully she made her way down the slope where Tony had disappeared. He was at the bottom of a deep, bushy ravine. She slipped and slid down the embankment, grabbing bushes to slow her descent. Tony was sitting in the snow, holding his leg. The sled and the equipment were strewn all around him. Why didn’t he get up? “Tony,” she called. “Tony, are you all right?” He didn’t move. He acted deaf and dumb. What was the matter with him?

  “Tony—”

  When she got to him she saw that he was crying. “Tony, what is it?” He hid his face. It was too awful, seeing him with his head bent and his hand over his face. “Oh, Tony, what happened? Tell me, are you hurt? Where did you hurt yourself?”

  “It’s my ankle. I think it’s sprained or broken.” He rubbed his eyes, then forced a smile, but his expression was fearful.

  If Tony couldn’t walk, they couldn’t move. It was the wo
rst thing that could have happened. They’d been through so much already. Too much. Cold and hunger, out in this awful snow and desolation for days and nights. Now this. Stuck here in the middle of nowhere without shelter or food, they’d freeze to death. Why were these things happening to them?

  She had to stop her thoughts. She was close to panic. She forced her mind to turn to practical matters: getting Tony out of the snow, making a fire, fixing a shelter. His teeth were chattering. She didn’t feel much better, but at least she could move. She found the blankets and the rest of their things in the snow. She wrapped a blanket around Tony’s shoulders, turned the sled right side up and helped him onto it. He was shaking badly.

  “Let me see your ankle,” she said.

  He didn’t want her to touch it, even look at it. “It’s all right. Leave it alone!” Just by looking at the way he held it she knew it wasn’t all right. She made him roll up his pants leg. Then she worked off his boot as carefully as she could. He swore under his breath.

  Something was seriously wrong with his left ankle. The bones didn’t look right. The ankle, bruised, was already swelling. When she touched it he winced. “Damn it! Leave me alone.”

  “All right,” she said, “don’t be such a baby!” She felt nervous and fearful. She didn’t want to touch his ankle again, but she couldn’t leave it the way it was. Everything she’d learned in first aid the previous summer came up a blank. She remembered that she had to wrap a fracture or a break and keep it as motionless as possible. She straightened up, looking around for sticks for a splint. Then she tore strips from the blanket and wrapped his ankle as best she could. Tony sighed and moaned and bit back tears. She was sorry. “I can’t help it, Tony. I’m trying to be careful.” At last the job was done.

  He was weak from the accident, maybe suffering from shock. He needed warmth. Cindy kept talking, fighting despair. “Okay, we’ve got that under control. Your ankle’s going to be okay now. I think it’s just sprained. Not broken, that’s not so serious, is it? Now let’s see if we can get you on your feet.” If they were to get out of this place, he had to walk. She couldn’t carry him! She found a heavy stick caught in the crotch of a tree. “Here, you can use this stick as a cane,” she said.