Part 4
Eli closed the wood-chute panel without latching it.
He sent Nate one more message.
THEY ARE AT BOTH SIDES. LYNX CAN’T GET OUT.
The device showed QUEUED again.
Mason scraped the catch pole along the rear wall. Wade remained on the porch, where the front door gave him control of the only exit large enough for a man.
Eli studied the cabin.
One window. One door. One narrow chute.
The fire had burned down to a steady bed of coals. Beside the stove stood an ash bucket and a red emergency flare sealed in waxed paper. Eli had placed it there himself when he helped stock the cabin years ago.
He unwrapped the flare and put it in his coat.
Wade struck the door with his palm. “We’re done waiting.”
The bar shook beneath a heavy blow.
The lynx spun toward the sound. Its injured paw touched the floor only briefly, but fear had put strength back into the rest of its body.
Another blow cracked one of the door planks.
“Mason,” Wade shouted. “Come up front.”
Mason did not answer. He was still behind the cabin, waiting for the animal.
Eli understood the plan. Wade would force the door. The lynx would flee through the only other opening, where Mason stood ready with the pole.
Eli picked up June’s blanket.
The first time he had held it, June was twenty-seven and angry because he had bought it for their anniversary at a gas station. She had called it the least romantic object ever presented by one human being to another.
For thirty-eight years, it had lived in every vehicle they owned.
Eli draped it over his left arm and took the stove poker in his right. He approached the lynx from the front, leaving the path behind it open.
The animal hissed.
“I’m not asking you to like me.”
He held the blanket low and advanced one careful step.
The lynx backed toward the wood chute.
The door splintered beneath another impact. Eli heard the metal bracket begin to pull loose from the wall.
He stepped again.
The lynx struck the blanket, then retreated. Its hindquarters reached the chute. It turned, smelled the air, and froze.
Mason waited outside.
Eli could not drive the animal into his hands.
He dropped the blanket.
The lynx watched him.
Eli opened the front stove damper, fed two pieces of wood onto the coals, and took the flare from his coat. He struck it against the rough patch on its cap.
Red fire flooded the cabin.
The lynx flattened itself. Outside, Wade stopped hitting the door.
Eli pushed the broken front shutter open and threw the flare through the window. It landed in the snow beyond the porch, hissing red light into the storm.
Wade turned toward it.
“Mason!” he shouted.
Eli lifted the door bar.
The front door burst inward before he could step back. Wade entered with the rifle held across his chest, more shield than aim. Eli drove his shoulder into him.
At seventy-two, he could not overpower Wade Bell.
He only had to move him far enough to clear the doorway.
They struck the wall. Wade’s rifle tangled in the hanging coats. Eli fell against the bunk, and the open doorway became clear.
The lynx ran.
It crossed the cabin in three long bounds, black against the red flare light, and vanished through the front door.
Mason came around the corner carrying the catch pole.
“There!”
He ran after the animal.
Wade shoved Eli away and freed his rifle. “Stay down.”
Eli followed him outside.
Wind drove sparks of red light across the yard. The lynx had reached the woodpile, where deep snow and stacked logs hemmed it in. Mason approached with the pole extended.
The animal tried to climb. Its injured hind leg slipped.
“Don’t corner it,” Wade shouted.
Mason kept moving. “I’ve got it.”
The loop dropped toward the lynx’s neck.
The animal turned inside the narrow space and launched at the only opening left.
Mason screamed and fell backward. The pole spun into the snow. The lynx struck his chest, raked one exposed cheek, and clamped its teeth around the forearm he raised to protect his face.
It held for only a second.
Then it released him, cleared the end of the woodpile, and bounded toward the broken ground beneath Split Rock.
Mason curled around his arm.
Wade raised the rifle toward the fleeing animal.
Eli stepped between them.
He caught the barrel with his left hand and forced it upward as Wade fired.
The report crushed every other sound out of the night.
Something struck Eli high in the shoulder and turned him halfway around. He fell beside the red flare, unable at first to understand why his right arm had stopped obeying him.
The lynx vanished among the rocks.
Wade stood with the rifle lowered, staring at Eli.
“You stepped in front of it.”
Eli tried to answer, but breath would not come. Warmth spread beneath his coat, shockingly distinct from the cold.
Mason cried out again.
Wade dropped beside his nephew and pulled off his own scarf, wrapping it around Mason’s forearm. His hands were quick despite their shaking.
“Can you move your fingers?”
Mason cursed him.
“Move them.”
The fingers moved.
Wade looked toward Eli. Then he came over, knelt, and opened Eli’s coat.
The bullet had passed through the upper shoulder rather than the center of his chest. Wade pressed a thick dressing against the wound and forced Eli’s left hand onto it.
“Hold that.”
“You shot me.”
“You grabbed the rifle.”
“You pointed it at the lynx.”
Wade’s face tightened. He did not deny it.
The satellite messenger had fallen into the snow near the door. Its orange cord shone in the flare light.
Wade picked it up.
The screen displayed the waiting message from Nate.
TEAM MOVING. ETA UNCERTAIN. BEACON ACTIVE.
Mason saw it too. “Break it.”
Wade looked toward the rocks where the lynx had disappeared. Then he placed the messenger beside Eli’s hand.
“No,” he said.
Wade dragged Mason toward the machines. The younger man resisted, demanding that they go after the animal, until Wade struck the front of his helmet with an open palm.
“You’re bleeding through my scarf. We’re done.”
The machines started. One engine faltered, caught, and followed the other down through the trees.
Eli remained in the snow until their lights disappeared.
The flare sputtered beside him. He could not feel his right hand. His left was slick inside the glove despite the dressing.
The cabin door stood open ten feet away.
He rolled onto his side and began to crawl.
By the time he crossed the threshold, the red light outside had faded. He pushed the door with his boot until it rested against the broken frame, then collapsed beside the stove.
The lynx was free. Eli had no idea whether he would live long enough to tell anyone…
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