Michelle Karl - Wilderness Pursuit

Kara patted the camera bag she’d slung over her shoulder. “Mike Helfer, is it?” The man nodded. “I’ve got all the relevant paperwork here plus copies of the dig permits for the pipeline’s proposed location. And I promise I’m fine. It wasn’t a long trip, and I’m used to work-related travel for archaeology jobs. I just want to take a few photos of the site so I can start thinking about how best to square off the area and divide up my team. It’ll cut down a lot of waiting-around time if I can get all or most of the prep done before the others arrive. The sooner my team completes the required archaeological work on the land, the sooner Gaida Industries can install the pipeline.”

Mike’s frown deepened, but he must have sensed her resolve because he waved her forward with a grunt. “Fine. But don’t blame me when we get rained on.”

She pointed toward the sky. “There’s not a single cloud in sight. Well, maybe one or two, but I highly doubt we’ll have anything to worry about save maybe a little shower overnight. Please, lead the way. I have the coordinates, but it’ll be easier if I focus on where we’re going so I can mark our trail.”

As the foreman led them into the forest, she staked small orange flags into the ground to help orient herself, and so that she’d be able to find her way in and out if she decided to come out to the site alone during the week. The wilderness of northern British Columbia was largely undeveloped and uninhabited, so cell phone service even a few clicks outside town was nonexistent. It wouldn’t do to get herself lost on her way to work the first time she headed out by herself. She’d have to make sure to charge the battery on her satellite phone tonight.

As she followed the foreman, Kara admired the unruly wilderness that would become her office for the next few weeks—or possibly longer—while she and her team conducted an archaeological survey of the protected land where the proposed pipeline would cut through. The Canadian government required intensive surveys done on any land where there was a possibility of archaeological remains, and since the vast region of northern British Columbia had been the traditional territory of First Nations people for the past ten thousand years, it would be a surprise not to find evidence of inhabitants at least someplace along the pipeline’s planned location—especially through this particular area outside Fort Mason.

She planted another little orange flag and stood to see Foreman Mike disappear around a tree. She hurried to catch up. The bright yellow reflective stripes on his orange coat ensured that he stood out among the foliage, though to Kara’s advantage, the forest wasn’t as densely packed as it would be once spring got fully under way. A project like the pipeline site needed as long of a dig season as possible, though, so as soon as the temperature stayed consistently above freezing—instead of this up and down the province had been experiencing in the weather lately—they could start working without risking the health and safety of her team.

She drew alongside the foreman as he stilled his footsteps at the edge of a moderately sized clearing—a patch of dirt and grass, really, ringed by trees. Kara stepped closer to the center and looked around. The forest was definitely sparser here, providing a natural laneway through the area that would require minimal disturbance of the existing landscape. The pipeline would extend all the way through this area and for kilometers on each side, but she had to start somewhere, and this had been the most logical spot based on land surveys and existing data about the region.

“Now you’ve seen it,” Mike said. “Anything else?”

“I want to snap a few quick shots, then we can be on our way.” She pulled out her camera and began to take photographs, changing her angles and position around the area so that nothing would be missed. “I really appreciate your taking the time to come out here unscheduled, by the way. The faster the job goes, the sooner your company can start building. That is, provided we don’t find anything that otherwise halts the—wait a minute.” She paused, seeing an out-of-place streak of white through the camera’s viewfinder. “It looks like...bone. I think that’s a phalange. But see how it’s just lying there? Something about this doesn’t look right.” She pulled the camera away from her face and studied the area with bare eyes. “In fact, none of it does. The whole site looks as though it’s already been disturbed, like someone has come through and hacked at the ground with a shovel—”

Pain exploded in the back of Kara’s skull, and she pitched forward. Her camera flew out of her hands and rolled across the ground, coming to rest next to a tree several meters away. She landed hard on her shoulder, palms and knees carving shallow trenches in the dirt as she skidded to a stop. Sparks danced in front of her eyes as she tried to cry out, but she couldn’t tell if the muffled sounds she heard came from her or someone else. What’s happening, Lord?

She curled her fingers in the dirt and squeezed her eyes shut. The foreman! She forced her eyes open and exhaled in relief—there were still white stars in her vision, but she could see through them. Unfortunately, what she saw was a person wearing a ski mask standing over the motionless body of the foreman. Instinct drove her to help while she still had breath to do so, but when she rose up on her forearms and reached for Mike, the masked person’s gaze snapped to hers and then to someplace behind her. Pain exploded in her side as she felt the tip of a boot collide with her kidney.

“Someone’s coming,” a male voice growled behind her. “Let’s get out of here.”

“But we haven’t—” said another.

“We’re done here, let’s go!”

Kara heard a deep snort that sounded an awful lot like...a horse? But why would there be a horse in the woods? She pressed her palm against her temple as the throbbing in her head intensified. Were these men trying to kill her and the foreman? Would they finish them off before disappearing?

The sound of pounding hooves grew louder and then diminished, along with the sounds of shouting. And then the woods grew quiet again, save for her heart hammering with adrenaline against her rib cage, the rustling of the leaves above her and the occasional birdcall.

“Mike?” she tried to inch her way across the disturbed earth. “Mike, are you all right?”

He groaned but didn’t move. A flood of fear spilled into her veins. The foreman needed medical attention immediately, and while she had some on-the-job first aid training—no self-respecting field archaeologist didn’t—she had no equipment or supplies to help him, and her satellite phone was in her vehicle. She’d planned to charge it tonight in town. Everything hurt, but what other option did she have but to push through and somehow get the foreman inside her car and into town? She needed to find the strength quickly, before their assailants returned. They might have been scared off by someone else, but for how long? And what if the person who’d scared them was even worse?

“Mike, don’t move,” she said, frustrated at the breathiness of her voice. It was hard to inhale, which meant she had to consider the possibility of broken ribs. “I’m going to—”

Footsteps thundered through the brush. Before she could react, thin black equine legs stopped several feet away.

“I suggest you take the same advice,” said a new, male voice. “Don’t move.”

The voice tugged at a thread of memory, but her head and body ached too much to remember. She stopped moving anyway, in case the new arrival was a worse alternative to the people who’d attacked her and Mike. Lord, protect us. “I’m hurt and unarmed, and this man needs medical assistance. We’re no threat to you.”