Survival Instinct. Rachelle McCalla
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of swimmers would make it as much as a mile before succumbing to hypothermia. Rocky Island is two miles from here. Scott would die before he got halfway there.” Abby recited the facts as she had so many times when she’d worked for the Park Service. Everyone seemed to underestimate the deadliness of the frigid waters. Far too often, it turned out to be a fatal mistake.
Mitch clearly didn’t appreciate being corrected. “The waves are going that direction,” he pointed out, “they’d practically carry him there. And I’m sure the surface water isn’t nearly as chilly as the deeper parts of the lake. Why, we’ve gone swimming in Lake Superior before and had a very pleasant time.”
Abby realized she’d touched a nerve, and possibly embarrassed him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Look, it’s a good idea. If this were a protected cove, and if the wind had been pushing warm surface water into a pool here, I’m sure Scott would have no problem swimming two miles. But this water is coming in from the open sea, where it’s constantly turned over from the cold water in the depths. It’s just not safe.”
In spite of her calm tone, Mitch pulled his arm away, clearly offended. “What other options do we have? Given the circumstances, I don’t think it’s too much to ask Scott to risk it.”
“And given the circumstances—” Abby met the man’s eyes and did her best to stare him levelly down “—it wouldn’t be a matter of risk. Striking out for Rocky Island as a swimmer would be suicide.” She let out a frustrated breath and tried to calm her agitated nerves. She didn’t like Mitch, and could understand why Scott had expressed a desire to avoid him. “Now, Marilyn is already doing her part by fishing to get us some supper. We have two poles. Why don’t you join her?”
With a little more cajoling, Mitch reluctantly agreed. Then she and Scott headed up the shoreline to the two ancient boathouses half-hidden among the boulders farther up the shore.
They found the canoe up in the rafters of the second boathouse. Scott regarded it with disgust. “I’m not so sure this thing is puddle-worthy, let alone seaworthy.” He assessed the ancient birchbark boat once they’d hefted it to the ground.
“If someone really did leave us here to die, it’s quite possible they left this here thinking we’d take it into the open water and drown,” Abby offered, then grinned at him. “But if so, then they seriously underestimated how seaworthy this kind of vessel can be. I believe this was once used as part of an educational display, but before that, it was built to be a functional canoe.” She lifted one of the single-bladed paddles from the bottom of the boat. “We’ve got everything we need. I say we use it.”
Scott’s eyes narrowed. He wondered how Abby could possibly be serious. “You mean you would actually consider taking this boat out onto that lake?” He pointed at the choppy waves just beyond them.
“Not if I had a better option.” Abby met his eyes. “Why don’t we take it down to the dock and put it in the water? We can stay close to shore for a while and see how she holds up before we venture out very far.”
Given their lack of alternatives, Scott decided Abby’s suggestion sounded fair. She seemed to know plenty about the islands, and had the facts behind her to keep Mitch off his case. If he had to choose, he’d rather try the canoe than strike out for Rocky Island swimming. “Do you have much experience canoeing?”
“Not on the open sea,” Abby admitted, “but I think I can manage not to tip us over, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Scott appreciated her scrappy attitude, and realized he probably sounded like he was whining. The problem was, he felt responsible for everyone else’s safety, and he especially didn’t like the idea of putting Abby at risk by letting her join him out on the water. But he also realized the two-person canoe would be nearly useless to him if he tried to man it himself.
“Okay, let’s see what this relic can do,” he agreed, meeting Abby’s eyes and sensing apprehension there. So, she felt nervous, too. “I’m going to look for a bucket or something to bail with before we go, though. Even if this thing holds water, it’s not enclosed like a kayak. If we get into some high waves, we could be swamped in a hurry.”
“So you think we should try it?” Abby’s voice sounded less certain now that Scott had agreed to her plan.
Scott crouched down and ran his fingers slowly over the smooth brown birchbark stretched tight across the wooden frame. The boat seemed so fragile, almost paper-thin, and so old. Would they be crazy to take it out on the lake? What if they got far from shore and ran into trouble? Worse yet, what if the waves pushed them out past the islands, into the open sea? There was no way the antiquated craft would make it to the shore of Canada. He looked up at Abby. “What are our other options?”
Abby looked around uneasily. Scott could see their precarious situation was starting to weigh on her. She hunkered down next to him and sat on the cement floor of the boathouse. “Does anybody know you’re out here today?”
Her question made sense. How long would it be before anyone missed them, and would they know where to look for them even then? “I went out with some of the guys from work to celebrate my birthday last night,” he explained. “I told them Mitch and my mom wanted to take me to another island today. I’ve visited seventeen of the islands, and Mitch has gotten it into his head that I need to eventually visit all of them. So they know I’m out here, but they don’t know which island.”
“And they expect you back at work on Monday?”
Uneasiness stirred in his stomach. “Actually—” Scott swallowed, trying to force down the fear that rose in his throat “—no. I’d planned to be back in the office Monday, but the guys said I’d been working too hard lately and had too much vacation time racked up. They told me to take some more time off and spend the week out here. I wasn’t planning on it, but if I don’t show up on Monday, they’ll probably assume I’ve come to my senses and followed their advice for once.”
“And your folks were planning to drive the circle tour around Lake Superior?” Abby clarified. “Do they tend to check in with anyone regularly?”
Scott shook his head. “I doubt it. I suppose they’ve got hotel reservations here or there, but people don’t show up for reservations all the time. No one would raise an eyebrow.” The facts were stacked against anyone coming looking for them, and Scott didn’t like it. “What about you, Abby? How long would it take before anyone came out here looking for you?”
Abby froze. She could feel the cold of the cement boathouse floor seeping in through her legs, into her bones. So much had gone wrong on this trip. At Scott’s question, her fears about his reason for being on the island resurfaced. No one knew she was there. But did she dare admit as much to him?
“I don’t know,” she admitted cautiously. “I have a lot of coworkers at the Eagle Foundation.” She took a shaky breath and avoided his eyes. True, she had lots of coworkers, but they all telecommuted. She was the only one living in the Bayfield area. And though she tended to keep in touch regularly via e-mail, she’d had problems with her Internet connection in the past and been out of touch for days at a time. If no one heard from her for a week, they likely wouldn’t be too concerned. And all of her family lived in the Chicago area. Though she kept in close touch, she’d sometimes gone a week or more without contact. Likely they wouldn’t be alarmed if they didn’t hear from her for that long.
After a long pause, Scott probed further. “Do you think any of them would miss you? Does anyone know where you are today?”
What would happen if she told him the truth? Had Scott brought his mother to the island with evil intentions? And if so, why had he agreed to let her come along? Abby prayed silently in her heart, and felt her pulse rate still. She glanced at the boat, and realized there was no way she’d be able to paddle the lengthy craft on her own. If she was going to get off the island, she had to trust Scott—with the truth, and with her life.
“Nobody knows I’m here,” she admitted in a tiny whisper. “No one will miss me for several days,