Part 5
The black lynx returned after the snowmobiles were gone.
Eli heard a scrape at the wood chute and thought at first that Mason had circled back. He reached for the stove poker, though he no longer had the strength to lift it.
The panel moved.
A black head appeared beneath it, dusted with snow. The lynx slipped inside, tested the air, and stopped when it saw Eli on the floor.
It did not approach him. It crossed directly to the warm wall beside the stove, turned once, and folded itself against the logs.
Whether it recognized him or only the shelter, Eli could not tell.
He pulled the satellite messenger closer by its orange cord. The screen swam in and out of focus.
SHOT. SHOULDER. INSIDE CABIN.
He corrected the message twice before he managed to send it.
Nate’s reply came while he was feeding one-handed pieces of kindling into the stove.
WE KNOW. TEAM IS COMING FROM SOUTH. KEEP PRESSURE ON WOUND. DO NOT SLEEP.
Eli typed, BOSSY.
The answer appeared a minute later.
YES.
He laughed once, which hurt enough to keep him awake.
The lynx watched from across the stove. Its leg trembled, and the cut cable loop still circled it, but the bleeding had slowed. Eli nudged the pan of water away from himself.
The animal waited until he turned his face before drinking.
Eli pressed Wade’s dressing harder against his shoulder. Every few minutes he checked the messenger. Nate sent short instructions relayed from the rescue team. Add wood. Keep the door closed. Answer with anything.
Eli began typing single letters when complete words became too difficult.
After one long gap, Nate wrote:
DAD?
Eli opened his eyes.
HERE.
He thought of all the times Nate had called and received no answer because Eli had left his phone in the truck, turned the ringer off, or decided he did not owe anyone an account of his day.
HERE, he typed again.
The storm weakened near midnight. Wind still moved through the trees, but the cabin no longer shook beneath it. In the sudden quiet, Eli heard the lynx grooming blood and ice from its paw.
He also heard June’s familiar instruction in his memory.
Tell him where you’re going, Eli.
She had said it before every patrol. He had usually answered that he knew the district better than anyone.
That was not what she had asked.
A new sound reached the cabin. Engines, lower and slower than the Bells’ machines.
The lynx rose, ears aimed toward the south, and moved to the wood chute.
Eli tried to sit up.
“Go on,” he whispered.
The animal looked toward him once. Firelight ran along its black face and caught the pale scratch above one eye.
Then it pushed through the chute and disappeared.
Voices came from the trees.
“Search and Rescue! Eli Mercer!”
Eli dragged the stove poker across the floor and struck it against the iron door.
The answering shout came closer.
The rescue team entered through the broken front door: two county volunteers, a paramedic, and Lena Ortiz, a wildlife officer Eli had trained during her first season. Snow covered them from the knees down.
Lena dropped beside him. “You always did need to make an entrance.”
“Animal went out the back.”
“Good to see you too.”
“Black lynx. Hurt leg. Don’t let anyone shoot.”
“I saw the tracks. Nobody’s shooting anything.”
The paramedic cut away the shoulder of Eli’s coat. His questions came in short, practical bursts. Name. Date. Pain. Could he move his fingers?
Eli answered until the room tilted.
As they lifted him onto a rescue sled, Lena noticed the severed snare cable beside the bunk. She put it into an evidence bag.
Outside, the clouds had torn open above Split Rock. A few stars appeared between moving banks of snow.
Eli looked toward the rocks.
For an instant he saw a black shape standing above the woodpile. It might have been the lynx or only a burned stump revealed by the flare. Then Lena’s headlamp crossed the slope, and nothing was there.
The trip out took nearly two hours. Snowmobiles carried him to a tracked rescue vehicle, which crawled through the drifts to the county road. An ambulance waited beyond the plow line.
Nate stood beside it without a hat.
He had driven from Missoula before the highway closed and spent the evening at the command post staring at the moving dot of Eli’s beacon. His face was gray with exhaustion.
The paramedic tried to hold him back until Eli spoke his name.
Nate climbed into the ambulance.
For several seconds he said nothing. He took Eli’s left hand carefully, avoiding the IV line, and looked at the orange cord looped around his wrist.
“Sadie’s going to be unbearable about that thing,” he said.
Eli’s lips were too numb for a smile. “She earned it.”
Nate bent forward until his forehead rested against their joined hands. Eli had never seen his son cry without trying to hide it. This time, he did not look away…
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