The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 5 Read online

  Travis shrugged. It probably made perfect sense. He was just being, as usual, too cautious, too unwilling to take a chance.

  They walked for fifteen minutes, brushing through cedar and low spruce, stepping over fallen logs and walking, at one point, carefully along a boardwalk that someone had thoughtfully laid through a bog.

  Travis thought the trail was getting ever thinner.

  They crested a hill, then another. They headed down along a creek bed, jumping from stone to stone, and came to where it seemed the trail should pick up again. But there was nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  “We’ve lost the trail!” Sam said, a tremble in her voice.

  “We go back,” Rachel announced immediately.

  Back up the creek bed they went, at times splashing into the water, at times slipping on the rocks.

  It seemed to Travis they’d been walking along the creek bed longer heading back up than they had going down. He could feel his heart beginning to pound. He worried that Rachel might hear it and think he was afraid.

  “Where did we come down onto this?” asked Fahd.

  “I think back there,” said Sam.

  “I don’t think we’ve come to it yet,” said Sarah.

  Only Nish was willing to state the obvious.

  “WE’RE LOST!!!”

  11

  Travis was in shock.

  Several times his grandfather had warned him about the dangers of getting lost in the bush around the cottage – “A man can become completely disoriented fifty steps off the trail,” he would say – but he had never fully understood how easy it was until it happened.

  And there was no doubt in Travis’s mind that they were lost.

  He stared up into the trees and spun about. No buildings to head for, no highway sound to follow, no path, no sight lines at all except for straight up into the rising boughs of the pines and a hint of the sun as it flickered through the branches. He couldn’t even tell which way the sun was moving. He hadn’t the foggiest notion whether they were moving north or south or east or west.

  Nish was panicking. He was darting, first one way, then the other, in search of the trail. His face was so red it was a wonder the sweat pouring off his face didn’t boil.

  “The first rule to remember,” Travis’s grandfather always said, “is not to panic. Sit down, get your bearings. And if you’re completely lost, stay put. Don’t waste your energy running in circles.”

  Travis was about to impart his grandfather’s wood lore to the others when he realized Rachel was already far ahead of him. She had removed her pack and was checking the trees, running her hands around the bark of a hardwood.

  She stepped back and pointed. “That will be north.”

  “How can you tell?” Sam asked.

  “There’s moss on the far side of that beech – moss likes the north side of trees.”

  “What good does that do us?” Nish moaned, dropping his pack hard, a beaten man. “We’re not trying to find the North Pole!”

  No one paid him any heed.

  Rachel stood for a long time trying to figure out where they were in relation to the river. She seemed to be talking to herself at times, pointing in various directions, mumbling, shaking her head.

  “It’s impossible without a map,” she said finally. “I don’t know how the river runs. If it’s straight north, which is the direction we were going when we began the portage, then we could head east and know we’d reach it eventually. But who knows what twists a river can take?”

  “What do we do, then?” asked Fahd. His voice was trembling. He was clearly afraid.

  “Did anyone see the map when Muck and Mr. Dillinger had it out?” Rachel asked.

  “No,” said Travis.

  “No,” said Sarah.

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “I did,” Nish announced.

  Everyone turned to him.

  “I was trying to rifle an extra granola bar,” Nish explained, still red-faced. “They were so lost in the map that they didn’t even see me.”

  “Did you see the river route?” Rachel asked.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Which way did it go?”

  “How do I know? I can’t read maps.”

  “Could you see where we were headed?” Fahd asked.

  “Muck kept tapping on a lake saying he knew of a good campsite on some island.”

  Rachel got excited. “Where was the lake?”

  “On the map,” Nish said impatiently.

  “No, stupid – where on the map was it? East? North?”

  “How should I know?” Nish answered, growing annoyed. Then he brightened. “It was to the right!”

  Sam groaned. “That doesn’t help, map boy.”

  “No, wait!” said Rachel, suddenly excited. “Maybe it does. Where was Muck sitting?”

  “I don’t know,” said Nish, again annoyed. “In front of the map, obviously.”

  “Where was Mr. Dillinger sitting?” Rachel asked.

  “Off to the side. He was fiddling with the fire and kept leaning back to look.”

  “So,” Rachel said, nodding with satisfaction, “we can presume Muck was sitting directly in front of the map, with it facing him. And if the lake we’re heading for was directly to the right, as Nish says, then that would have to be east.”

  “How so?” asked Travis.

  “Maps run north-south – if the lake was to Muck’s right, it would be east of the river route he was plotting.”

  “What good does that do us?” asked Sarah. Her voice, too, was trembling slightly.

  “Well,” said Rachel, “we know where north is. And we know the river and the lake we’re heading for is to our east. So at least we won’t head north or west and be lost forever.”

  “You think we should move anywhere?” Travis asked. “My grandfather always said if you get lost, stay put.”

  Rachel smiled. “Crees don’t get lost, Travis.”

  12

  They began walking directly east. Rachel kept north in check through the tree moss and, every once in a while, they passed through a clearing that allowed them to monitor their direction against the sweep of the sun. It was now late afternoon, and as long as they kept the sun to their back they’d be heading in the direction they wished to go.

  It all looked the same to Travis. They pushed through overgrown logging trails and were fooled, twice, by animal runs that the other kids took for human paths, but which Rachel persuaded them were not.

  It was rough going. The spruce branches and raspberry canes scratched and tore at their bare legs. Logs and stumps hidden from view knocked their shins and tripped them up. Rocks gave way, weeds entangled, and flies buzzed and got in under baseball caps, driving the kids crazy with their biting.

  They had talked and even sung at first, but now no one said a word. The seriousness of the situation was beginning to sink in. A few hours ago, Travis was wondering if they’d make it out before dark. Now he was wondering how they would spend the night, having all but given up hope that they’d suddenly break through into a clearing, with the river and the rest of the Owls waiting patiently for them.

  He heard a roar like a giant stomach rumbling. Everyone turned at once, staring back at Nish.

  “Not me!” he shouted.

  “Who else?” Sam snapped back sarcastically.

  “It’s the storm moving in,” said Rachel.

  The storm. Travis remembered. There was supposed to be a huge storm building up, according to the rangers, and now it was coming in on them.

  “What should we do?” asked Sam.

  The six kids stopped. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Rachel. It was as if she’d been elected captain, Travis thought. Everyone knew she knew so much more about the bush than any of the rest of them. They’d be crazy not to defer to her on what to do.

  “We better face up to it,” said Rachel. “We’re here for the night.”

  “I’M GONNA DIE!” Nish wail
ed.

  “Sooner than you think,” said Sam, “if you don’t shut up.”

  “We need to look for a place to settle in,” Rachel continued. “Higher ground if it’s going to pour.”

  With Rachel leading the way, they began to look for a suitable place to set up camp. Travis instantly gained new appreciation for the groomed campsites they had left behind, with the carpet of soft pine needles, the firepit, smooth places for the tents, and even a rough outdoor toilet.

  “Over here!” Fahd called, just out of sight. They raced over to him.

  “Looks good,” said Rachel.

  Fahd had stumbled onto a perfect glade, like a shining green jewel in the sunlight, with the dark woods surrounding it like a wall. There was grass here, and if the ground was not quite flat, it was surely flat enough for them to pitch tents on.

  Travis stopped in his tracks.

  “Do we even have tents?”

  “Better check our packs,” said Sarah.

  “Ahhhhhhhh …,” Nish began sheepishly.

  The other five turned instantly, knowing instinctively something was wrong.

  Nish was beet-red. “I don’t have my pack,” he said, swallowing hard. “I set it down. Back there somewhere.”

  “How far back?” asked Travis.

  “I don’t know – back there.”

  “That could be anywhere,” Rachel said. “We’ll just have to get by without it. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

  They rolled the remaining packs down on the soft ground and began to open them. Travis laid out what he already knew was in his pack. Groundsheet, sleeping bag, clothes, toothpaste and toothbrush, a box of pills in case his allergies hit, water sandals, bathing suit, compact fishing rod, and the first-aid kit he’d been assigned.

  He hoped they wouldn’t be needing it.

  “Tent!” Sam shouted. She hauled out the carefully folded tent and tossed it out on the ground. It was one of the smaller ones, suitable for three.

  Sarah and Sam got to work putting up the tent. Travis and Fahd worked on finding large rocks to make a firepit.

  Nish, who was supposed to be helping Rachel search for firewood, sidled over to Travis. “How come they get the tent?” he whispered.

  Travis dropped the rock he was carrying. “Huh?”

  “How come they get the tent?” Nish repeated. “Why them?”

  “Maybe because it was in Sam’s pack?” Travis suggested with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “Ours was probably in your pack!”

  Nish shook his head. He was still sweating. “They want equality,” he said. “They want to be treated as equals on the team. But then they get here and demand to be treated as girls,” Nish said the last word as if it were something he’d pulled out of a cat-litter box.

  The sky was darkening now, thick clouds the colour of an old bruise rolling in and covering the sun. The wind was also up, the temperature dropping.

  “That’ll do for the wusses,” Sam said as she stepped back from the completed tent. “What’re we girls going to do for shelter?”

  “There’s a tarp in my bag,” Rachel said. “We’ll string up a lean-to.”

  Nish was blinking, incredulous. “We get the tent?”

  “Sure,” said Sam. “We know who the weaker sex is.”

  “You can’t do that -”Travis started to say, but Nish cut him off.

  “Speak for yourself, Tarzan,” Nish snapped. “I’m in the tent.”

  Rachel was already at work on the lean-to. First, using a tool that looked like a combination shovel, pick, saw, and small axe, she built a frame: a long cross-pole supported at either end by two shorter poles with Y branches at the tops, which she drove firmly into the ground. She cut two more posts and angled them down to the ground from either end of the cross-pole away from the fire.

  Rachel, Sam, and Sarah then tied the large orange tarp down over the frame so that the lean-to took on the appearance of an open-sided tent. They tied down all the lines, and then Rachel went back into the bush, snapped off cedar branches, and piled them over the tarp to keep the plastic down in the wind and give the structure even more substance.

  Travis was impressed. In an hour or less, Rachel had built something that would have taken him a week and never been so good. It looked almost permanent.

  The girls laid out their groundsheets inside and pulled the corners of the tarp down to form a rough doorway, which they could tie down or else leave open facing the fire pit.

  “Can I interest you girls in a good tent?” Nish said good-naturedly. He too was impressed.

  “We need a fire,” said Sam. “Fahd, you said you have matches?”

  “Right here.”

  Rachel was already building a small crib from the wood the girls had collected.

  “There’s no kindling to start it with,” Fahd said, in a bit of alarm. “No newspapers here, either.”

  “We’ll use Cree newspapers,” Rachel said, laughing.

  She walked back into the bush until she came to a large spruce, then she pushed through its dark skirt of low prickly branches and ducked completely inside.

  They could hear her snapping off branches.

  In a minute, she came out again, her arms filled with tiny dead branches from low down inside the spruce. “Remember this one, Nish,” she said, giggling. “These branches are always dry – even in a storm.” She set down a handful of the dry branches on the top of the crib and, with one match, got a magnificent fire going.

  It was quite cool now, the wind picking up, the day rapidly darkening under the threatening clouds. The kids drew close to the fire, but less, Travis thought, for warmth than for comfort. There was something incredibly reassuring about the tent, the perfect lean-to, and the fire Rachel had built. He was no longer quite so afraid.

  “All we need are some hot dogs to roast,” giggled Travis, holding out his hands to enjoy the blaze.

  “Or popcorn!” laughed Fahd.

  “I’m starved!” Nish said. “I’m gonna die if I don’t eat soon!”

  “So,” said Rachel, “eat, then.”

  Nish snorted. “Yeah, sure. What am I gonna do? Dial 567–1111 and give Pizza To Go twenty minutes to get here or it’s free?”

  “There’s better stuff than pizza out here if you know where to look,” Rachel said. “Give us fifteen minutes. You boys keep the fire going and gather up some more wood for tonight.”

  13

  Fahd and Travis lost track of the time as they built a good-sized store of fuel for the night. There were rumblings of thunder now, and when Travis looked back in the direction from which they’d come – or from which he thought they’d come – he saw lightning flash in the clouds. It looked like a bad storm coming.

  “Dinner is served!” Rachel’s voice rang out.

  The girls laid their finds down on one of the groundsheets in the lean-to. They had red raspberries held in a loose sling in Sam’s shirt, blueberries in a tied-up kerchief, several varieties of mushroom, puffball, wild leeks, cattails, and a second shirt full of soaking, sopping water lily.

  “If we only had a pot or two,” said Rachel, “I could cook us up a feast.”

  “Where’s the food?” Nish said, looking over the array of mysterious plants.

  “No pizzas, Big Boy,” said Sam. “But enough to keep you alive.”

  They began to eat the raw food. The mushrooms, once cleaned, were edible. Travis liked the cattail roots, but the water lily he could do without. The berries, of course, were absolutely delicious.

  “I’ll have some of them,” said Nish, taking a handful of blueberries, then a second.

  “See,” said Sarah, “it’s not so bad.”

  “Eat your moose food,” Nish snarled. “I’m merely having my daily intake requirement of sugar.”

  CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

  Everyone jumped. It seemed the sky had suddenly split apart.

  “It’s here!” announced Rachel.

  They ducked in under the lean-to, and in an
instant the thunder broke. The rain came down like shotgun pellets, hammering the little tent and the lean-to.

  The fire fizzled and died, the smoke from the logs twisting away and vanishing.

  The kids, however, stayed dry. Perfectly dry.

  It was darkening fast.

  “Nothing to do but try to sleep,” Rachel said.

  CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

  The second strike was even closer than the first. Travis shook. He thought he heard wood splintering higher up the hill. “TRY TO SLEEP?” shouted Nish. “I’M GONNA DIE!!”

  CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

  CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKK!!!

  14

  Travis had no idea how long he had slept, but he was suddenly aware of an enormous stillness.

  The rain had stopped.

  He listened a long time, and only faintly in the distance could he hear the slightest hint of thunder. The storm had passed over.

  He had no idea what time it was. He could hear the tinny sound of Fahd’s radio. He listened to Fahd’s breathing until he was sure he was asleep, then reached over and flicked off the radio to save the batteries. Nish was snoring.

  Travis had to go to the bathroom. He struggled out of his sleeping bag, careful not to disturb the other boys, and unzipped the front of the tent.

  The clouds had moved on and the sky was clearing now, allowing for some moonlight. Travis stepped out, his bare feet sinking into the soaking ground. It was like stepping through a swamp, the dirt and pine needles and grass squishing up between his toes and each step followed by a sucking sound that seemed to be trying to pull him back.

  He moved to the edge of the glade and relieved himself, careful to ensure that the sound didn’t wake anyone – especially the girls!

  He was standing there, waiting to finish, when Travis was struck with the strangest, eeriest feeling he had ever felt in his life.

  Someone was watching!

  There were eyes somewhere in the dark, and they were boring into him!

  Travis shivered. Not from cold – the air had warmed again with the passing of the storm – but from a terrible sense that something menacing was watching him, and waiting.