Earthling

By K.L. Thompson

The idea was fourteen days of peace and tranquility. Fourteen days of beautiful, high mountain lakes and, according to his friend Dick, fourteen days of awesome fishing. What he got was half a day, including the hike in, before he discovered two women in serious trouble, men trying to kill him, his medication destroyed, and the return of a sixteen year old illness. He was hearing voices again. Now, one day was what he needed. Not even that long, really. He needed to keep it together just long enough to get the women, and himself, back up the trail he had hiked in on. To call for help. And he would have to do it in the dark, without getting caught or killed by the two men stalking the women.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.L. Thompson
• Release date: Jan 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301925957

K.L. Thompson

K. L. Thompson (Ken) lives in North Idaho with his wife Dana, and Rusty the dog. The trio enjoys camping, hiking, fishing, sailing, the occasional walk along the lake shore and, of course, reading and writing.

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Earthling

A novel

By K. L. Thompson

Earthling is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

places, and incidents are either the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by K. L. Thompson

Cover image © Kathy Jo Doramus

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Map

Chapter 1

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her legs burned like fire, her heart pounded so hard in her chest she was beginning to see sparks of light before her eyes and still she ran.

Where the trail cut to the right, away from the lake, she spied a likely place to hide. It was a fallen tree. Not one of those skinny lodge pole pines. No, this one was the remnants of a much larger tree, a ponderosa pine that had fallen victim to the forest fire of several years ago.

She slowed to a brisk walk and left the trail, stepping with caution to avoid leaving tracks in the gravel and pine needles next to the trail.

Cindy skirted the dead pine, threw herself on the ground behind the fallen tree and attempted to conceal herself from the view from the trail. Sharp bits of decomposed granite stabbed into the soft skin of her bare arms as she shifted her position but she didn’t notice.

She lay on her back looking through the tree tops at the clear September sky and willed her breathing to slow from ragged, shuddering gasps to more even, quiet breaths. She was in shape; she took pride in the fact that she kept herself in shape, that wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was she was a hiker, a pack packer. She could set a decent pace and go all day, even carrying a sixty pound pack, but she was not a runner or a sprinter and she had just sprinted six or seven hundred yards at an elevation that was at least double what she was accustom to.

Once she had slowed her breathing and the pounding of her heart had quieted from the thunder of hoofs to a slightly softer rhythm she listened for any sound of pursuit. The forest was quiet with just a slight wind moving the tops of the pines and except for her pounding heart, she heard none of the normal forest sounds, and no indication she was being pursued.

Why is it so quiet? she thought. Kathy’s ear splitting screams of agony, that’s why.

High above, an eagle or maybe a hawk rode the gentle breeze as it searched for its dinner. For a moment, she wished she could join the hawk but instead of searching for food, she would fly away to safety.

Without moving, and using only her eyes, she searched her surroundings, seeking anything that could be used to better conceal herself, she felt so exposed.

She wore nothing but a light summer tee, jeans and her hiking boots and if one of those men should step off of the trail at just the wrong place, the white tee-shirt would be easy to spot. But not much was within reach of her hiding spot, only a few small broken branches, several flat rocks, and a scattering of pine needles.

Cindy was sure it would be the little man who would be chasing her.

Little man? Hardly. she thought. She thought of him as the ‘little man’ but he was by no means little. He was taller than Cindy, probably five ten or maybe even six foot, but compared to the other guy, he was little. That other man was massive, well over six five and big. Not big as in overweight or fat, big as in huge, massive, a mountain of bone and muscle, a huge brute of a man. He was so large he had towered over his companion and he had completely dwarfed Kathy when he stepped up to take his turn with her.

Thinking about what had happened, and was probably still happening to Kathy, filled Cindy with a mix of emotions. Outrage, disbelief, horror, anger, shame and despair had all battled for dominance in her mind but it was fear that had won out then and it was fear that won the battle now. Fear of what they were doing to Kathy and fear of the promise that she would be next and most of all fear of death. The men had made no attempt to conceal their identity which could only mean they intended to kill both her and Kathy when they were finished with them.

A sob caught in Cindy’s throat and a single tear slid down her face. She had run away and left Kathy, she felt so ashamed. She knew in her mind it was the classic ‘fight or flight’ response. She couldn’t fight the men so she had taken flight, it was logical but she was sick in her heart and felt ashamed, ashamed of leaving her friend and ashamed of being the one to escape.

As the minutes ticked by she began to second guess herself and her chosen hiding spot. Maybe she should have kept going, maybe there was a better place to hide, and maybe they wouldn’t come after her at all. A second later, when she heard the first sounds of approaching pursuit, her breath caught in her throat and panic welled inside her. She almost jumped up to run and had almost given away her hiding spot; the urge to flee was that strong. She willed herself to be still and pushed herself up against the fallen tree so hard that the remnant of a long ago broken branch pressed painfully into her back.

Cindy held perfectly still as her pursuer drew closer, huffing up the very same trail she had been standing on only minutes before and was now laying not more than ten feet away from. It was the brute, she was sure of it; the sounds of the foot falls were too heavy to be the smaller of the two men.

As he drew near, the sound of his boots hitting the trail seemed to slow and Cindy’s already pounding heart began to beat double time in her chest. Don’t see me! She repeated over and over in her mind, willing herself to become invisible as the foot falls came to a stop. He couldn’t be more than five feet away. Cindy could barely hear the man drawing deep breaths of air over the sound of her own pounding heart. The big man’s boots crunched in the gravel as he stepped even closer to the fallen tree Cindy had concealed herself behind. Without so much as a sound Cindy curled the fingers of her left hand around a small stone and readied herself to strike the big man with it and run for her life.

The heavy breathing quieted and then, with a grunt and the sound of his boot grinding in the gravel as he turned, the man continued along the trail that would lead him up to Ruffneck Lake.

Cindy slowly exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and then waited until she could no longer hear him, and then a minute more to be sure the other man wasn’t following along behind him. After a moment she stirred, using caution to avoid making any noise that may attract attention.

Which way? If she went right she would be following that big man up the trail to Ruffneck Lake, left would take her back to her camp near Island Lake, back to Kathy and back to that other man. Left or right she would surely be captured again.

Cindy chose to forsake the trail altogether. She stepped across the trail and headed east into the trees. Once off of the trail she picked her way through the deadfall, around large piles of rock and boulders, and the occasional impassable clump of brush with care, attempting to avoid leaving tracks for the men to follow. It was slow going and the trail was much faster but there was a time, she was sure, that the trail hadn’t existed at all. The trails that connected the lakes and the trail that led from the parking area into the lakes were all probably created by some government sponsored work crew many years ago. Her grandfather had worked on one of those crews way back during the Great Depression. Anyone who came to the area back then would probably do exactly what she was doing now.

She felt sure if she could only gain enough ground, a big enough head start before dark, it would buy her enough time to either work her way up to Ruffneck Lake or going the other direction, try to skirt around her campsite and make it to the trail that led back to her vehicle. She knew she couldn’t make it all the way back to the car today, it would be dark in a few hours and the trail was too treacherous. But at least she should have enough of a lead that neither of the two men could catch her in the morning. Then she could drive into Stanley for help, it was only twenty six miles from the trailhead and she may even be able to get cell service before that.

Up to Ruffneck Lake was by far the closer of the two options but there was no guarantee there would be any help up there. She and Kathy hadn’t seen any sign of other campers since their arrival and there hadn’t been any other cars parked at the trailhead when they signed in. But they had only just made camp a few hours before they were attacked by the two men, so there was the possibility. But even if she did find other campers, what could they do to help her? More likely, if she found anyone, they would suffer the same fate as she and Kathy had, or just be killed outright. No, she had to try for the trail back to the car.

Now that she had made her decision she felt better. She hated indecision and was known for her ability to analyze a situation, choose the best course of action and then pursue it with vigor. That tendency was exactly why she was up for promotion to partner at the law firm where she had practiced for the last two years, since passing the bar. There were several others there who were senior to her and very upset that she had been named as a candidate for the position. Well you can’t expect good things to be handed to you, can you? No, you have to work hard for them.

About sixty yards into the trees above the trail to Ruffneck Lake Cindy stopped and stripped off her white tee-shirt and began rubbing it in a patch of dirt, attempting to dull the glaring white of the clean shirt. She disliked dirt, but better a little dirt and a small measure of concealment than the alternative. Holding the shirt up to inspect her handy work she noted that she had managed to turn the once new, white tee-shirt into a dingy brown rag.

Donning her newly dirtied shirt she began picking her way through the trees and downfall, heading North in the direction of Langer Lake. If she could make it as far as Langer Lake she could find a place to hide for the night and start up the trail to the car at first light. All she had to do was get to the other lake without being caught and then survive the cold September night.

It was late afternoon when she came to the small stream she had crossed earlier when running from her camp. This time she was farther uphill and the stream was much narrower, she wouldn’t need to get her feet wet to cross it. She stopped to drink water, she was desperately thirsty.

Cindy knelt next to the stream and using her hand as a cup, ladled water into her mouth. The water was very cold but it tasted fresh and clean and as she drank she could feel the icy cold water sliding down her throat into her stomach. She drank until her thirst was quenched and then drank a bit more. She hoped she wouldn’t catch anything from drinking water that hadn’t been purified or disinfected, but she had no other option.

Cindy had cut her left wrist getting out of the plastic zip ties the men had bound her with. It had been continually throbbing and now she could see that the edges of the cut were red and inflamed and the gash itself was packed with dirt and grime. She took a moment and washed it in the small stream. She hissed between clenched teeth as the stinging cold water rinsed away the dirt. By the time the painful task was completed Cindy had clenched her lower lip between her teeth to keep herself quiet.

As Cindy rose up from the water she heard a deep throaty chuckle behind her and her blood turned to ice. She spun on her heal to run for her life down the hill but a big meaty hand closed around her left bicep. It was the brute, he had found her. He gripped with such force she thought he would crush her arm, grinning from ear to ear while he squeezed.

Cindy still held the stone she had grasped while lying behind the log. She had kept it with her, clutching it almost as a child clutches a security blanket. She had transferred it to her right hand while she drank water and had tended her injury and now, with all the force she could muster, she swung it into the big man’s head. The stone made a dull thud as she struck the man just in front of his left ear. He didn’t react as she expected, didn’t let go of her and drop to the ground, he only closed his eyes, tipped his head and grunted. His grip on her arm didn’t lessen at all.

She drew back and hit him with the stone again, putting all her weight behind the blow. This time she hit him in the left temple. The big man dropped to one knee and almost dragged Cindy down on top of him, but still did not release her arm.

Rage and fear filled Cindy with adrenaline and with a renewed burst of strength and energy she hit him in the left temple one last time. The brute released her arm and collapsed next to the stream. As soon as she felt his grip on her arm give way she ran for her life back, the way she had come.

Chapter 2

Dave spent the night in Stanley, Idaho. He checked into the lodge around six after a little over an hour’s drive from his home in Ketchum. He dropped his bag off in his room and then headed down to the dining room.

He had driven by the place several times before and had been tempted to stop for lunch, but he always seemed to be tight on time and had never been able to justify the stop. His boss, Jim had recommended the lodge, not because he had ever spent the night there, but because they serve the best steaks for miles. So that is what Dave ordered for dinner, a big, fat, juicy steak with all of the trimmings and an ice cold beer. Jim was right; it was one of the best steaks he had eaten in a long while and the ice cold beer really hit the spot. Desert was a glass of water and his evening pill.

He was up early the next morning and after a screaming hot shower, the last one he would get for the next two weeks, he returned to the dining room. There, he had a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs over easy, hash browns, sourdough toast and several cups of steaming hot coffee. That would be the last meal he wouldn’t have to prepare for himself for a while so he savored every bite. He washed his morning pill down with the last of his coffee, paid the bill and checked out of his room. He topped off his gas tank at the small gas station across from the lodge and was on the road at nine AM. This last bit would be a short drive and he was headed for fourteen days of peace and tranquility and according to Dick, some awesome fishing.

Life is good, he thought, especially when you’re on vacation.

It was only a thirty mile drive up to the lookout and then, after some minor maintenance to the radio equipment and charging systems, a favor for Dick, it would be an hour or so hike down to the first lake. He should make camp several hours before sunset. He could hardly wait.

The drive out highway 21 from Stanley was scenic with tall, slender pine trees lining the highway, mostly Lodge Pole pine with a few Fir and Ponderosa mixed in and huge open meadows with the rough, jagged peaks of the Sawtooth Mountains in the background. Quite picturesque. Although the speed limit was sixty five on this highway, Dave held the speed of this old Ford pickup at a steady sixty. Dave’s boss, Jim had completely rebuilt the engine two years ago but the truck was still old and frankly, Dave wasn’t in that big of a hurry.

It was no surprise then that ten miles out of Stanley a Cadillac Escalade caught up to Dave and smoothly passed him by. The two women in the Escalade were both knockouts and the woman in the passenger seat even looked him right in the eye as they went by and favored him with a big beautiful smile. That made his already good day even better and added to the scenic beauty of the drive. Dave smiled back at the woman and gave her a half embarrassed wave.

Dave had been to the area twice before, but both times were for work. The first trip was last summer when he had to bring the big truck up to tow a broken down motor home. The driver was adamant about not being towed to Ketchum. He wanted Dave to take him to Challis.

It’s your dime, he had told the man. He didn’t care where they wanted to be taken, as long as they paid the bill. Although in hind sight, towing a motor home down that twisty, windy river road wouldn’t make his top ten list of fun things to do as far as he was concerned.

His second work related trip to the area was for a head-on collision, in the dead of winter. A second wrecker was needed and no one closer could be located so Jimmy’s Toes had been called. Jim was nice enough to offer the tow to Dave. Dave didn’t mind at all and quite honestly would happily help Jim any way he could. Thankfully by the time Dave made the hour long drive most of the mess had already been cleaned up. This time though, it was nice to be able to enjoy the area without worrying about helping to clean up car parts, and sometimes people parts, from reckless and aggressive drivers.

He made good time and after eighteen miles turned right off of highway 21 onto the Forest Service road Dick had indicated on Dave’s map. About a mile up the dirt road Dave could see the dust trail of the Escalade that passed him a few minutes before, they had turned off the highway as well. If he was lucky the two women would be going to the same lakes he was and he would run into them again.

If they are backpacking into the same lakes I can count on seeing them again. Of course there is no guarantee they will actually talk to me, but I can count on seeing them again, he thought as he turned off the main dirt road and onto a smaller Forest Service road.

One thing he hadn’t counted on, after several miles of rough dirt road, was the Forest Service gate he had to open to get up to the lookout. Well, he knew the gate was there and Dick had given him a key, but Dave didn’t know you practically had to stand on your head to reach the padlock hidden up inside a steel tube to unlock the gate. He also hadn’t been paying attention when he parked his truck to open it because when the big heavy steel gate swung open it left a nice scratch across the front of Dave’s old Ford pickup, he had parked just a bit too close.

Damn, well I guess I’ll call that a character scratch, he muttered as he drove the pickup up the road. As Dick had instructed, he had closed and locked the gate behind him. The public wasn’t permitted to drive to the lookout but since he was doing equipment maintenance he had been given permission.

Another other thing he hadn’t counted on, and Dick hadn’t warned him about, at all, was the white knuckled drive of the last two miles up to the lookout. Dave had been wondering about it, the lookout was at a much higher altitude and there wasn’t much distance between him and the top. He was watching the road up ahead and when it started to get steep he stopped. He shifted his pickup into four-wheel drive, low range, and then he got out and turned the locks on the front hubs to engage the front wheels. Then he literally crawled the last two miles up the mountain with sweat popping out on his forehead and a death grip on the steering wheel.

The road made him feel like he was driving up a steep razor blade with nearly straight down drop offs on either side of his truck. No switchbacks, no meandering assent, just straight up the ridge with no room for error. No wonder the Forest Service radio technician was so happy to give him the expensive equipment and detailed instructions of how to replace one of the big batteries. He probably didn’t like the drive up any more than Dave.

Once he had reached the lookout it was better and there was plenty of room to get his truck turned around and backed up to the door in the stone foundation of the lookout. The radio room was in the ‘basement’ of the lookout so he wouldn’t have to figure out how to lug that big heavy battery up to the second level.

The views were stunning. From the deck of the lookout he could see several lakes scattered about below him. Standing on the North side he could see Finger Lakes and he thought he could just make out the Seafoam Lake trailhead parking area. If he looked off the East side he could clearly see the lakes that were his destination for this trip. There were several lakes to the South but they were unnamed on his map.

Viewing the lakes and the peace and quiet they promised motivated him to get his tasks finished and be on his way. It would be a simple matter to work through the items on the check list the tech had given him.

The battery replacement item on the list turned out to be the only difficult part. The act of getting the new battery out of his truck and into the room under the lookout was harder than he thought it would be.

This is only a one and a half volt battery Dave, the tech had advised. "But it has enough amps to kill you dead. Don’t ever touch the