Chapter 7: The Rescue

Eric dropped his head heavily against the trunk of the tree he was leaning against. He closed his eyes and wished he could rewind time. Five minutes and maybe he could have talked Dalton down? Hell, a matter of hours and maybe they would have avoided the landslide altogether?

Eventually the pelting rain caused him to shiver and he knew he had to find a more protected location where he could spend the night. He struggled to his feet and collected his backpack, then headed into the trees to find where Dalton had dropped his backpack and gear. He collected everything and limped further into the forest.

Less than a quarter-mile into the trees he found a tree that had fallen and landed on a small hill. There was a small space under the tree that appeared to be mostly dry. He used his walking staff to clear as much of the vines and twigs as he could, then worked his way into the dry cubby hole.

His first task was strip out of as much of his wet clothes as he comfortably could with his bad leg. He got his shirt and undershirt off, then unbuckled his pants and pulled the left one off and kept the right one pulled down to his knee.

With a clean shirt he padded himself dry best he could, then he put on another clean dry shirt. With the exertion of finding his shelter and changing clothes he was beat. He took his canteen and a protein bar and relaxed for a few moments.

He closed his eyes and listened to the relentless rain. It provided a constant random cadence of sound as it drenched the forest, causing small rivulets of water to run to a lower point. Eric wondered if the recent rains were to blame for the weakened ledge, or if it was already compromised and all it took was the additional weight of an unsuspecting hiker?

His thoughts ultimately settled on those fateful few moments where Dalton decided he would rather end his life on his own terms versus being slowly beaten to death by nature before they were rescued. Eric rewound the whole trip in his mind and thought of several off-hand comments that, in hind-sight, may have indicated a problem, but nothing that clearly indicated alarm.

Eric dreaded the thought of having to tell Nikki that Dalton was dead. He could hear her first screams of his name when the ledge collapsed. He could only imagine her reaction when she learned what happened.

Eric heard a noise which roused him from sleep. He looked at his watch and found that it was almost three in the morning. He looked to his left to see a small doe walking slowly through the woods. Her ears were up and she appeared tense as if she had detected his scent but could not locate its source. Eric just watched without disturbing her as she passed out of view and into the darkness.

Eric took another sip of water and shifted his position. His mind again raced back to the events of the previous day and it was over an hour before he drifted off to sleep.

When Eric woke soft rays of light were starting to penetrate the tree cover. He stretched and wiggled his way out of his makeshift shelter. It must have been a fast-moving storm because from what he could see there was no sign of clouds or rain anywhere in sight.

Eric started by opening the two backpacks and consolidating everything he might need into one pack. He then made his way back to the infamous grassy knoll. He crept to the edge and peered over but could not see where Dalton landed. He retreated a few feet to safety and the put the empty backpack on the ground. He took his drenched bright red shirt from the day before and stretched it out above the backpack. His next task was to pound the sticks he sharpened with his knife into the ground in order to secure the shirt and backpack in place in case a curious animal decided to try and take a keepsake.

His last task was decide on a course of movement. He knew Merriman’s peak was a good target, but his first guess at a route landed them at this dead end. Ultimately he decided he would backtrack as far as needed, then aim again toward the peak. His last chore was fashion an arrow of sticks and rocks on top of the shirt pointing to the peak. If anyone saw the bright red shirt from the air they would hopefully realize that indicated his intended path of travel.

With a final moment of silence and look over the edge, Eric slowly limped his way back the way they came. After an hour he found what he hoped was a downward leading pathway. He hoped it would lead him to the peak and not force another detour.

At a few minutes before ten he heard helicopter rotors again. He knew the odds of him being found were slim because he was still under heavy tree cover. Even so, he kept his eyes toward the sky in hopes of getting a glimpse of his rescue.

The sound got progressively louder and seemed very close. Eric stopped and turned in all directions but could not see anything. He then realized that the helicopter may have found the backpack and shirt he placed and had hovered in place to inspect the area.

Encouraged that someone may have found evidence of their survival after the landslide, Eric doubled his efforts of getting to Merriman’s Peak.

Stacy and Nikki sat at the ranger station nervously drinking coffee. The helicopter had been gone for over three hours.

“Why is it taking so long?” asked Nikki.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if a long time is a sign of a good thing or a bad thing.”

They alternated standing and pacing the small room. There was a window that overlooked the landing pad and they searched the sky looking for a sign of the bird’s return with information. After way too much coffee, they saw a black speck in the sky grow larger and approach the landing zone.

They were on their feet and waiting at the door when the crew entered.

Non-stop questions burbled from their mouths. “Did you find them? Are they OK? What can you tell us?”

The pilot veered off to the side, leaving the medics to talk with Stacy and Nikki.

“Ladies, please take a seat,” said the senior paramedic. Her name, L. HENDRICKS, was emblazoned across her flight suit.

“What? Sit? This is not good, is it? What’s the matter?” Nikki demanded.

“Please, have a seat.” Laura Hendricks walked to the far side of the table and indicated that the two women should sit on either side. The other medic, whose name was Cable, sat across the table from his boss.

“We found evidence that at least one survived the landslide,” started Laura. Before either could start questioning her, Laura held up her hand. She showed them a photo on her phone. It showed a backpack and a red shirt with an arrow made of rocks and sticks.

“Do you recognize this?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Stacy. “That is Eric’s shirt. He was wearing it yesterday. And that looks like Dalton’s backpack.”

“Do you happen to know their shoe sizes? And if they wore the same type of shoe?” asked Laura.

Stacy answered. “I know both. I bought all the gear we used on this trip. Eric is a size 8.5 and he preferred the over-the-ankle Coyote boot. Dalton is a size 12 and he went with the Timberland All-day Hiking Boot.”

Laura and Cable exchanged a look and subtle nod.

“What? What is it?” yelled Nikki.

Laura turned her focus to Nikki and said in a solemn voice, “I am very sorry to tell you this, but we found Dalton’s body off the cliff where the shirt and backpack were placed.”

The air rushed out of Nikki’s lungs. She swayed slightly and then burst out in gut-wrenching sobs, interspersed with questions.

“What? Why? Are you sure? How do you know? Did he fall? What happened?”

“We are sure that it is Dalton. From what we see on the scene we have a few ideas, though there are some open questions.”