Dead Five's Pass Read Free Page B

words.”
    Janis pushed him away, turned her back.
    Marcel turned away and sighed. He knew Carise wasn’t reckless. That was just the way the newspapers spun the story of when that poor guy fell to his death. That could have been anyone in her position. The kid just didn’t attach the rope properly; it was just one of those things.
    “We’ve been through this so many times,” Marcel said, trying to ease the situation. “Can’t you just give me this one and then next season I’ll make sure I’ve trained up a replacement? The season’s closing next week, and this will likely be the last rescue situation.”
    Janis turned to look at him, her face like cold stone. “It seems you’ve made your choice then.” She pushed past him and slammed the bedroom door behind her.
    He kicked out at a kitchen cabinet, smashing the door off its hinges.
    “God dammit!”
    He left the wooden door splintered on the kitchen linoleum and collapsed into his battered, old armchair in his study, slamming the door behind him.
    The walls seemed closer every year, and the framed newspaper front pages yellowed a shade darker. It was so long ago that he was the hero of the town—him and Carise.
    For five years straight, they successfully rescued every endangered climber and spelunker.
    Superman and Lois, they were called. Him for his physical prowess and ability to traverse the landscape, and her for her unwavering loyalty and smarts.
    That all died the night the kid did.
    He haunted them both, but unlike Carise, Marcel didn’t hit the bottle. He just walled in the self-pity and grief, dreamed of what their baby would have looked like if it didn’t die inside her. Dreamed of what he could have done to have prevented it—if he had even known she was pregnant. Hell, she didn’t even know until it was too late. What else could he have done?
    Marcel switched on his CB radio and scanned the channels for more information on the bloodied and frightened girl the truckers saw. She must have been with someone else. It’s not common at all for a single climber to go out alone.
    While he scanned the conversations—most of it traffic complaints—he picked up an old, folded newspaper from his desk. It showed a picture of him and Carise smiling together on the mountainside, successfully escorting a stranded climber to the rescue chopper. It was a particularly daring and dangerous rescue, but in that moment of the photograph, he and Carise were never closer. Happiness was etched into each wrinkle on their faces.
    Why must have it all gone so wrong so quickly?
    Marcel put the paper away in the desk drawer and waited for the call.
    * * *
    Carise pulled into the small parking lot at the front of the station. The snow fell heavier and the temperature dropped to ten below. It’d be far colder than that on the mountainside if anyone was exposed to the frozen winds. She pulled her collar up and stepped from her truck.
    The station was surrounded and protected somewhat from the weather by a ring of yellow aspens and larches. Their thin, tall trunks on three sides of the single-story wooden cabin made the place feel like it was in the middle of nowhere. And yet just five minutes away was the town of Smokeywood. Only the tracks in the dirt road indicated that anyone traveled to and from the remote station.
    It’d been some time since Carise had rendezvoused here. She stepped through wet snow towards the entrance, her nerves strained. She didn’t know what kind of reception she would get. But it was a good sign that they called her.
    Inside the station it smelled of hot lemon and honey.
    Marge sat at her desk with a computer monitor and a switchboard in front of her. Her wiry gray hair teased into a mock beehive poked up from behind the monitor. Steam rose all around her, infusing the air with her special blend of tea.
    “Want a little something stronger in that?” Carise said as she approached the desk. Trying on her best you’ve not seen me in a while but