P Deutermann - The Cat Dancers

They all heard the sound of an approaching helicopter at the same time, which ended their conversation. They came out of the tent and started taking it apart. The wind was rising, and there was more of the cloud bank on their side of the ridge now, although it didn’t appear to be roaring down at them yet.

The helicopter came in from the east, circled the landing zone once, lined up with the wind sweeping across the meadow, and then put down just below where the camp had been. It was the same crew who’d brought them in.

They began throwing bags into the hatch as soon as the crewman got it open, crouching to keep below the rotor blades. Cam definitely saw lightning flash across the big ridge and down into the Chop, which by now was ominously dark. When all the gear was loaded, they put Frack aboard and climbed into the aircraft. The crewman took one last look around the landing area, spoke into his intercom, and then hopped aboard. He slid the hatch closed and checked that they had fastened their seat belts.

The helo rose smoothly and immediately banked down toward the river. Cam looked out across the snow-covered meadow and saw the unmistakable shape of a German shepherd bounding across the frozen snow in pursuit of the helo. He yelled to get the crewman’s attention and then pointed below them. The crewman looked out, said something on the intercom. Frack, in the meantime, had spotted his partner out the window and started barking. The crewman listened and then shook his head.

“No go,” he shouted. “Pilot says we’re outta here.”

“Bullshit,” Cam yelled back. “You can’t leave her here to starve.”

The crewman tried again as the helo gained altitude. Below, and now behind them, Frick valiantly tried to keep up, as if she knew they were in the aircraft.

The crewman made a disappointed face and shook his head again. This time, Cam unbuckled, got up, signaled for Frack to follow him, stepped past the strapped-in crewman, and opened the hatch between the crew compartment and the cockpit. He signaled Frack again and the big dog went through the door and began doing the monster mash on the two pilots: furious barking, lots of snapping teeth, saliva spraying the sides of their helmets. Cam had to steady himself as the helo swerved violently a couple of times, and then the pilot, clearly getting the message, turned the bird around and prepared to put it back down on the ground. Cam called Frack back into the cabin, ignoring the amazed look on the crewman’s face. He thought he saw Mary Ellen grinning from behind her oversize sunglasses.

They landed again and the crewman slid open the door. Cam jumped out and called to Frick, who was a good hundred yards away but still gamely coming on. She put on a few extra knots and managed to jump right into the hatch once she got there, claws scrabbling on the metal deck. Cam got back aboard and buckled in after some serious reunion greetings from both dogs. The helo lifted back off with an angry lurch. There was some lengthy conversation on the intercom between the pilots and the crewman, who kept eyeing Cam and the two shepherds. Cam hauled his. 45 out of the parka pocket and began popping empty shells out of the cylinder. The crewman stopped talking when he saw the gun, and for the rest of the flight back to Pineville, he sat as far from his passengers as he could, his sun visor pulled completely down. Behind them, the winter storm finally spilled over the ridge and buried the Chop under the first winter storm of the season. Cam hunched into his still-damp clothes, remembering the feel of Mary Ellen’s arms around him. It had been a long time.

Cam awoke in his motel room with a violent chill and had to collect his wits for a moment to remember where he was. He’d reported back to Bobby Lee from the Carrigan County Sheriff’s Office, and, as promised, he’d let the two rangers listen in to his report of what had happened to Kenny up on the mountain. The sheriff took it all in and told Cam to return to Triboro the following day. They’d found him a motel room, where he’d proceeded to crash after telling Mary Ellen he’d meet her at the local pub that evening.

Now his head hurt, his knees were really sore, and he was pretty sure he was running a temperature. He tried to get a look at his watch but he was having trouble getting the little dial light to come on. He decided to take a hot bath to see if he could shake off the chills. Afterward, he staggered back to bed and got under all the covers. Then the room became unbearably hot, so he got up and turned on the air conditioner full blast. He lay there wishing he had some aspirin, then began talking to himself about how he might manage to find a store. Then he heard voices outside. There was a knock on the door, followed by another. Finally, the door was opened from the outside, revealing a worried-looking motel desk clerk and Mary Ellen Goode.

“Knock, knock,” she called as she came into the room. Cam smiled weakly, and tried to say something, but he only managed to chatter his teeth at her. She shivered in the icy room and turned off the air conditioner. She thanked the clerk and closed the door behind him. “Look at you,” she said, shaking her head. “You stood me up, you know.”

“Wha-what time is it?” he asked between feverish chills.

“Eleven-thirty,” she said. She found his room key card and said she’d be right back. Twenty minutes later, she fed him some Tylenol and made him drink a bottle of water with it.

“Thanks for checking on me,” he said. “I’ve never crashed like this before.”

“It’s called ‘post-incident letdown,’” she told him.“We see it all the time after a rescue. People survive by running on adrenaline; then the body exacts its price.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry about your deputy.”

Cam nodded, even though it hurt his throbbing head. “He was a good guy and a good cop,” he said. “I still can’t quite believe it.”

“That he was one of them?”

Cam said yes. The Tylenol was beginning to work. There were sounds from the room next door: a muffled male voice, followed by girlish giggling.

“Kenny told me that it was all real. That they helped James Marlor fry those two guys. They were proud of what they’d been doing.”

“And the judge?”

“No,” he said. “He said they didn’t do that. Then, at the very end, he said something that didn’t make any sense at all. Something about looking in the mirror. I think it was just final delirium.”

“And you feel like shit because you had to leave him there.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I know there was nothing I could have done, but you just don’t leave your wounded out there.”

“Was he still alive when you climbed out?”

“Well, no, but still…”

The noises from next door became more amorous and less frivolous.

“They’re doing better than we are,” Cam said with a weak grin.

Her smile brightened the room. “You guys, you never quit, do you? There’s the bottle of Tylenol, and you need to drink another water. Want to try for breakfast?”

He thought about breakfast and his stomach generated a wave of nausea, which she apparently detected. She moved the wastebasket nearer the bed. “Sorry I brought that up, so to speak,” she said. “Why don’t you call me when you’re operational. I’ll go back with you after the inquest, if you really think I can help.”

He nodded, not trusting his stomach just now. He closed his eyes. There was something else he needed to tell her, but he couldn’t think of what it was. Then the lights went out and he heard the door close. Things reached a climax of sorts in the adjacent room. Some guys have all the luck, he thought.

“Look in a mirror’?” Jay-Kay said. “If I look in a mirror, I see myself.”