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  Clearly something was upsetting the dog. A low throat-rumbling growl emerged from the tense animal. My own hairs stood on end. I had to move on. I tossed the wooden weapon 178

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  to the ground and started downhill again. The dog didn't even hesitate; he followed at my side.

  Not sure if that was a good thing or not I tried to ignore it.

  Like it or not, it looked like I had at least temporary custody of a dog. "Try not to make any noise, will you?"

  He was silent. So far so good.

  The day lengthened. I couldn't see the sun overhead, but I could feel its passage. Shadows deepened and I knew I was running out of time. Day two and Alex needed me to get help.

  I dare not stop for darkness or anything else.

  My legs turned rubbery and exhaustion tugged at me.

  Even the dog, who still hugged my side, seemed spent. I guess we'd both had a few rough days.

  We'd also gone as far as we could. Still, I didn't quit until I stumbled over a fallen branch and nearly took a header down a steep incline. Even then I pushed on, memories of Alex's face when he had sent me away driving me past reason. At last the ground leveled out, and the trees around us grew thinner. We were leaving the riparian area, and entering the upper meadowlands. We startled a pair of mule deer who darted away from us, the white flags of their tails flashing in the moonlight. It was a measure of how exhausted it was that the dog ignored them.

  I glanced up at the half moon that bathed us in silver light.

  A rash of stars filled the sky, and if I hadn't been so sick and scared I would have loved nothing more than to lie down and watch them wheel overhead.

  Instead, I sat, the dog huddling against me, shivering and making low whining noises even when I tried to sooth him. I 179

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  prayed to God to give me strength. I prayed that Alex would be saved. I slipped into an uneasy, nightmare ridden sleep. I don't think the dog slept any better. More than once I woke up to find him churning his legs and whimpering. He was trapped in his own nightmares.

  An hour before sunset, I stumbled into a campsite and found Danny and Niko, a couple from Dubuque. I scared the shit out of them. They recovered quickly and Danny gave me some coffee he had just brewed. Even black, nothing had ever tasted so sweet.

  There really was a God.

  Niko had a cell phone she handed to me without a word after I told her why I needed it.

  And mercy of mercies, I got a signal.

  * * * *

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  Spider

  Sometime after Jason left I dozed. I don't know for how long, but it was full dark when I woke with a start. At first I had no idea where I was, or what had happened to me. I lay on my back, still groggy, blinking and straining to see something, anything that would give me a clue. Disjointed memories returned. Jason had been there, here, then he was gone. Where? When?

  There had been a body. No, two. The man from the parking lot had been shot. Why? Then I remembered the two women who had been with him. Had they been killed, too?

  Just because I hadn't found their bodies didn't mean anything.

  I thought of Jason then. Would he get down off the mountain? I'd been so afraid he would disobey me in the end and come back. He hadn't and I was immeasurably glad. At least he had a chance.

  I put my hand down on my side. Big mistake. Pain shot through me and I had to dig my teeth into my lip to keep from screaming. I clawed at the loamy ground and waited for the spasms to pass. When they did I was left clammy with sweat and shaking. I kept shaking even after the pain passed into a dull ache. The movement had reopened the wound.

  Fresh, warm blood trickled down my side. I knew the blood loss wasn't my real problem. I was sure the bullet had perforated one of my intestines and even now the infection would be raging. Eventually it would shut me down. It was 181

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  only a matter of time before I got too sick to think clearly.

  Already shivers racked my body, signs of an oncoming fever.

  I swallowed and only managed a dry rasp. God, I needed a drink. I had already finished the canteen Jason had left me.

  Where was mine? I turned my head sideways, ignoring the stabbing pain and located my backpack, less than a foot away. Even from here, in the dim light, I could see my canteen strapped to the side. The backpack's strap lay near my left hand, which was still clutching the ground. I gingerly pulled my fingers free of the dirt and inched across the needle and loam covered ground, brushing the canvas strap before falling away. I tried again. That was when I felt something pressing against my uninjured side. I froze, fingers barely touching the strap.

  What the hell was that?

  When it moved, I almost lost it and succumbed to gibbering panic that flooded my mouth with bile.

  I reached gently for the strap, managing to catch it in two fingers. The motion rocked my body a little further off the ground, exposing more of my right side.

  The pressure returned. Whatever it was it was moving, pressing against my back. I was able to determine its shape and the sour metallic taste of terror filled my mouth again.

  My heart slammed against my ribs and I forgot to breath.

  It was a snake. Had Jason mentioned snakes? Yes, shit, he had. Double shit. Diamondbacks, he had said. I'm pretty sure along with warning me about bears and cougars and screaming rabbits, he had mentioned Diamondbacks. What the hell do you do if a rattlesnake crawls into bed with you?

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  Stay still. Not a problem. Moving was an agony and getting worse by the minute. What was more worrisome was the fever that was spreading. So far only small shivers wracked my body; I knew they would get considerably worse. How long would the snake linger? If the warmth of my body was attracting it, then probably all night. Would it leave when dawn came? How far off was that?

  I lay half on my side, my spine twisted and my right arm stretched out, reaching for the backpack. I couldn't maintain this position indefinitely. Already my legs were cramping up and muscular spasms knotted up my spine. I hadn't wanted to breath, then I couldn't when my chest locked up. Sooner or later I was going to roll over on top of the snake. What would kill me first? The snake bite or the sepsis in my blood? I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths, past the pain, past the rigid muscles that locked my diaphragm in a knot. Every move produced excruciating agony and sent tremors along the length of my body. The bullet wound burned and the heat spread through my gut, along my twisted spine.

  I dug my fingers into the soil, desperately trying to stabilize myself. The strap to my backpack dug into my hand, reminding me of how acute my thirst was. I could barely swallow; at the same time my bladder was full. The irony wasn't lost on me.

  I was reduced to the purest sensations. Pain piled on pain, each one sharper and more intense than the last. I let it flow over me, struggling to control, if not the pain, my reaction to it. I thought of Jason then and what he craved from me. His love for me transmuted what I did for him into pleasure for 183

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  both of us. Pleasure the like of which I'd never experienced with another person. I had never truly considered the depths of his trust in me. The doubt I had felt meant I didn't trust him or myself in return. I had been shortchanging and betraying both of us with my reluctance to take our sex games all the way.

  My fist closed over the strap and with tiny, pain wracked jerks I pulled it toward me. I succeeded in fumbling the canteen off and used my teeth to uncap it, spilling fluid on my cheek and the ground under my face. I tasted dirt and the cold briskness of fresh water.

  I didn't even know if drinking was good for me or not. I w
asn't sure I cared anymore. I gulped it down greedily, feeling my fatigue fade, bringing an increased awareness of the pain that tore through me. Pressing my forehead against the damp ground, I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on control.

  A violent shudder pulsed through me; the creature at my back coiled and uncoiled, I swear I felt the slide of cold scales over my spine as it settled back against my warmth. I fought down panic, knowing to give in to it would mean death.

  The shivering and fever rolled over me, and I lost control of everything.

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  Jason

  I shouted into the cell when I connected with the 911

  operator. At first my words were a torrent of confusion. Only the calming voice on the other end broke through my incipient hysteria. Beside me the dog whined and paced around me, reluctant to leave, but just as reluctant to stay.

  Danny and Niko, young and scared at what they had stumbled into, hovered over me.

  Finally, I took several deep breathes and forced myself to speak calmly.

  "I need to speak with the rangers. We've found a body—

  two bodies!"

  "Sir, calm down. What is your location? What are you reporting?"

  "My partner and I are camping..." I frantically searched my memory for specifics of where we were in the nearly two million acres of mostly wilderness park land. "We're north of the Matilija Canyon area. My partner—" Christ, I wanted to say lover, husband, anything but partner. That sounded so indifferent, so sterile, but I couldn't muddy the waters here.

  "My partner is a Santa Barbara police detective. He's been shot. We need medical assistance. Right now."

  "Give me your location sir, I'll dispatch an ambulance. Are the gunmen still in the area?"

  "Yes, no, I don't know! You need to get the police in here, or the rangers. Or whoever. But send them now. And tell them there are drug dealers there, too. A marijuana farm—"

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  "What is your location, sir?"

  "I told you! Matilija Canyon. We hiked in four days ago.

  Yesterday...no, day before yesterday, we were traveling along the creek bed north of Fox Mountain. Maybe ten, fifteen miles north. I don't know. I lost my GPS. We don't have time for this. He's shot. He may be...he's hurt." I couldn't say dead, I wouldn't say dying.

  "Can you stay on the phone, sir? It's possible we can triangulate your relative position from your phone—"

  "It's not my phone..." I looked at Niko helplessly. She stared at me for thirty seconds, then shook herself.

  "It has GPS." She recited the phone number, which I repeated.

  "You can track me?"

  "I'm sure we can, sir."

  "Please, hurry." God, I wanted to weep, but I had to be strong. Then she said the sweetest words I've ever heard.

  "Someone will be dispatched immediately, sir. Please stay on the line."

  I was so intent on doing as she told me I didn't notice the dog's growing tension. When his incessant whining turned to a growl, I threw him an angry look, only to find his ears flattened against this head and every hair on his body standing on end. Goose bumps crowded my own skin.

  "What's wrong with your dog?" Danny asked.

  I wanted to tell him he wasn't my dog, but I was too mesmerized by the intensity the Shepherd showed.

  "What is it, boy?" I spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. "You hear something?"

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  A covey of quail exploded from a patch of scrub brush not fifty feet away from where we stood in the open, staring back at the dark line of forest we had just left. I crouched down and whispered into the still active phone.

  "I think they followed me. I think they're here."

  "Speak up, sir. I can barely hear you."

  "They're here!" I hissed, then took off at a dead run straight downhill, still clutching the phone.

  The dog flew ahead of me. Niko yelled and I knew they were chasing me, too. I was beyond caring that I was scaring them. I stumbled on. The moon wasn't much help in letting me see my way. I didn't dare look back to see if something more than my overactive imagination. Danny and Niko followed me. I stumbled, went down but kept moving, scrambling forward on hands and knees until I could get my feet under me again.

  Short, scrubby red-tinged poison oaks and sumac flashed by. The creosote stink of chaparral grew stronger the lower we got in our race. The oily excretion the plant exuded clung to everything. It overpowered the stink of my sweat and fear.

  The dog raced over to me once when I fell, and shoved his damp nose in my face, his warm doggy breath in my mouth and nose. He gave a short soft bark then bolted again. This time he didn't come back right away. When he finally did, he looked subdued.

  I stumbled on. My legs grew leaden and my heart labored in my chest. I half fell, half dove into a small copse full of scraggly aspens and frantically checked that the phone was still connected.

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  "Are they coming? Tell me you're on your way."

  "Yes, sir. We have you on GPS and your location is being monitored."

  "Thank God," I muttered then froze. "But the phone isn't mine." I looked at Niko helplessly.

  She backed away. "We have to go." She took Danny's arm.

  "There are men with guns. We can't stay here. They'll shoot us, too."

  "Can I keep—"

  Niko snatched the phone out of my hand. She shook her head. "I'm sorry..." The dog growled again and the couple backed away from both of us.

  "Please—"

  But they were gone, hurrying down the mountain, leaving me standing in a field with a manic dog.

  I had a choice to make. I could go on, hoping to find someone else who would help or I could go back and bring Alex to safety myself. The only thing I knew for sure was I wasn't going to leave the man I loved more than life itself, to die alone in a wilderness he hadn't even wanted to come to.

  Fuck that. I climbed out of the copse and headed back up the mountain. I was going to find Alex. Find him and bring him home.

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  Spider

  Pure exhaustion drove me back into an uneasy, nightmare-ridden sleep. The ground underneath me rocked and swayed sickeningly. God, I was on a boat. I don't do boats. My stomach rolled with the pitch of the sea. I hastily gulped back my nausea, only to find my mouth was sandpaper dry. Water.

  I needed water to drink. Not to float on. I tried to sit up, but couldn't move. In fact, when I tested my limbs, I couldn't feel them. I blinked my eyes open but there was nothing but darkness pressing down on me.

  Then I grew aware of the weight on my chest. And the voices. But not voices with words. Loud, aggravated voices, raging, then laughing, then raging again. It sounded like a nearby drunken party spiraling out of control. Where was I?

  Had I been rescued? Taken to a hospital?

  Out of the loud voice a more chilling sound. A high-pitched scream of pain. Of somebody dying. It must be a hospital.

  The bed under me felt lumpy enough. But if I was in a hospital what was going on outside? It sounded like a rowdy party ready to blow up into a rumble. And that scream. I shivered. Someone needed to call the cops. Wait. I was a cop.

  The weight on my chest grew heavier. I was having trouble breathing. Pain blossomed in my gut. I needed to move whatever it was off before it suffocated me.

  This time, when I opened my eyes, I saw what sat on top of me. Cold, unblinking reptilian eyes stared back at me from a brown wedge-shaped head the size of a dinner plate. When 189

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  the snake's t
ongue flicked out and touched my chin I almost screamed. But I couldn't breathe, so no sound came out. The thing looked like it was the size of the Burmese rock python Jason and I had seen once at the Santa Barbara zoo. Since when did rattlesnakes get that big? Or heavy? The weight was increasing, pressing down on my rib cage so hard I swear I heard the bones creak. It was impossible to draw a deep breath. Then it was impossible to breathe at all.

  How the hell had it gotten from behind my back on to my chest? Outside, beyond my sight, the wordless voices went on, laughing and shouting, with a growing edge of hysteria to it. The scream came again. Louder. More frantic and terror filled. Couldn't they see me? Couldn't they hear? Couldn't they see the fucking snake that was now the size of a car?

  Then there was a new sound. One that struck even more terror into me.

  The staccato sound of the snake's rattle, like bones in a tin cup. It opened its mouth to reveal a set of scimitar shaped fangs glistening with yellow venom. The massive triangular head reared back, flat black eyes like buttons never leaving mine. I jerked my arms up to block the strike but I couldn't move. I opened my mouth to yell, hoping someone out there would hear.

  No sound emerged. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the strike.

  The weight vanished. My eyes flew open; the rattlesnake was gone. So were the screaming voices. My body was shaking so hard my vision was vibrating. I was still lying in the dirt under the pine tree, one hand clutching the canteen.

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  The pressure behind my back was also gone. Daylight infused my shelter, flowing in with soft, damp mist. Now the only sounds I heard were the distant voices of countless birds and insects waking up.

  Christ, I had been hallucinating. Was it the fever?

  Delirium? Had the infection advanced that far? I realized I had no idea how much time had passed. What day was it?

  Could I trust anything I experienced, or was it all suspect now? And was that a bad thing? Maybe hallucination and delusion were better than full awareness of what was happening to me.