Part 3
Eli kept one hand on the satellite messenger and the other against the floor until the dizziness passed.
“I know you’re in there,” Wade called. “Your tracks come straight to the porch.”
The lynx pressed itself deeper beneath the bunk. Firelight caught one yellow eye and the metal cable still trailing from its leg.
Eli typed with his stiff thumb.
LINE CABIN AT SPLIT ROCK. WADE BELL AND MASON BELL OUTSIDE. WADE HAS A RIFLE.
The message changed to QUEUED.
Too much rock overhead. Not enough sky.
Nate’s earlier words remained on the screen, waiting for an answer Eli could not yet send.
Mason struck the rear wall with the catch pole. “You’re making this worse.”
Eli pushed himself upright and slid the wooden bar into its iron brackets. “Go home.”
“You know we can come through that door.”
“I know you’d rather not explain why you did.”
Wade spoke before Mason could answer. “Set the lynx outside. We’ll take you to the highway closure.”
“And the hole in its leg?”
“Animals get caught.”
“In legal traps, the trapper reports a protected species and releases it.”
“Don’t lecture me through a door.”
“You came all this way for the lecture.”
Silence followed. Eli heard Mason pacing behind the cabin.
The stove warmed the room quickly, but heat awakened pain in Eli’s hands and feet. Pins of fire drove beneath his nails. He removed his wet outer gloves, flexed his fingers, and tried not to think about how long he might need them to work.
The lynx shifted. Its cable had looped around one of the bunk legs.
When it pulled, the swivel knocked against the wood.
Mason heard it. “It can’t run, old man.”
Eli took a closer look. The cable was not buried in the flesh, but a kinked loop had tightened above the paw. If the animal panicked, it could damage the leg further.
A pair of short-handled bolt cutters hung on the wall beside the stove. Eli remembered using them years ago when someone chained the cabin’s woodbox shut.
He set the pan of melted snow within reach of the bunk and pulled June’s blanket from the sled.
The lynx growled when he approached.
“I know,” he said. “Nobody asked you.”
He held the blanket between them, not as a net but as a wall. The lynx struck once. Claws caught the wool and ripped free.
Eli waited until the animal’s breathing slowed, then used the long stove poker to draw the loose cable away from its leg. The swivel scraped across the floor.
Outside, Wade called his name.
Eli ignored him.
He placed the jaws of the bolt cutters around the cable, as far from the lynx as he could reach. The animal lunged against the blanket. Eli closed the handles.
The first attempt left a dent in the wire.
His shoulder began to shake. He reset the cutters and leaned his weight into them.
The cable snapped.
The loose length slid across the floor. The lynx recoiled beneath the bunk, carrying only the small loop around its leg.
Eli sat back, breathless. Blood welled from a narrow scratch across his wrist where one claw had reached around the blanket.
The satellite messenger chirped.
MESSAGE SENT.
A reply came almost at once.
COORDINATES RECEIVED. TEAM STAGING SOUTH OF CREEK. WEATHER DELAY. STAY INSIDE.
Then Nate:
I’M AT COMMAND POST. KEEP ANSWERING.
Eli typed, ALIVE. INSIDE. INJURED LYNX WITH ME.
He watched until the message sent.
Mason kicked the lower part of the door. The bar jumped.
Wade said something too low to hear. Mason answered loudly enough.
“He’s stalling until they get here.”
“They can’t get here yet.”
“What if the wind drops?”
The question changed the pressure outside. Eli heard it in the pause.
Wade came closer to the door. “You sent an SOS?”
“Yes.”
“That first signal gives them the truck, not this cabin.”
“They have the cabin now.”
The wind filled the silence that followed.
“You think dying in there makes you right?” Wade asked.
“No.”
“Then stop making it worse.”
“I’ll open the door when you leave.”
Wade stepped away.
Eli stood and examined the back wall. The line cabin had been built for horse patrols, and a low wood chute opened beneath the rear window. Snow packed the outer side, but the hinges were inside.
He lifted the latch and pushed. The panel moved an inch before the snow stopped it.
Cold air streamed through the gap.
The lynx raised its head.
Eli used the poker to break the packed snow, working slowly. After several minutes, the panel opened onto darkness beneath the overhang of Split Rock. The passage was narrow, but large enough for the animal.
Beyond it lay broken timber and granite where a snowmobile could not follow.
Eli backed away, giving the lynx a clear path.
The animal crept from beneath the bunk. It limped toward the opening and tested the air.
Then it stopped.
Its black ears turned toward the rear wall. A human boot compressed snow just beyond the chute, and the metal loop of Mason’s catch pole scraped against the logs.
The lynx backed away. At the front door, Wade called once more. “Last chance, Eli…”
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