Page 62

Romeo
Wilson drove at what he considered to be unsafe speeds on the gravel road down the little incline towards the Iowa River area where the river overflow drainage pits were located. They were there, alright. Six of them spread over a half mile. They got to the foot path that led to the first one. Jackson launched the drone.
“I hope she has enough body heat left to register on it,” Sherman said as the four men hiked towards the first pit, following the drone that zoomed ahead of them. Wilson had a rappelling line looped over his shoulder.
“I hope she has a light-colored coat to make her easily seen,” Jackson said. This would aid in rescuing her or recovering her body.
Wilson wished he knew what color coat she had. He didn’t.
The drone reached the first pit and broadcast an image of an empty pit. No heat signatures, nothing discernible as a human. They’d just reached the turn off in the trail to pit number two. “I’ll send it over pit number two,” Jackson said. “I think someone should still take the time to check out pit number one, just to be sure there’s nothing up against the walls that would be undetectable and to be sure no ground has been disturbed.”
“I’ve got it,” Sherman said. He immediately veered off towards pit one.
Wilson watched his flashlight beam flicker ahead of him on the trees for a second before he veered towards pit number two. If she’d been buried in the floor of the pit, would the Birdman be able to see it from the rim of the hole? He pushed that thought from his brain and pushed on.
The drone reached pit number two. The images it sent were the same. No heat signatures in or near the hole, nothing that looked like a human being in the hole. The men stopped where they were and sent the drone over pit number three, several hundred feet further up the trail than pit number two. Pits number four through six were accessible further up the gravel road where it dead ended.
“Nothing in pit number one,” Sherman reported through comms. “I’m heading back your way. If anyone was in the pit, it would be seen on the drone. Honestly, I can’t tell from the height of the rim if the bottom ground has been disturbed. If we don’t find her in the six pits, I think that would be a secondary search of the pits from inside of them or in daylight,” he said.
“Roger that,” Wilson said.
When the drone arrived and hovered over pit number three, Wilson’s eyes were glued to the tablet, along with Jackson’s. Nothing.
“Let’s get back to the car and drive to the next set of pits,” Jackson said, already turning around to hike back.
“Yeah,” Wilson agreed. He transmitted to Sherman to meet them back at the car.
They drove up the winding gravel road until it dead ended. Pit number four was in front of them. No need to launch the droneon it. Wilson and Sherman walked up the uneven ground to it as Jackson launched the drone towards pit number five. Wilson noticed how the ground seemed disturbed as they neared the edge. He was filled with hope this was the place.
He shined his flashlight down into the pit. “Reina! You there?” he called as he circled the light. About three quarters of the way around the circle, the beam found a still figure seated with its side against the wall all hunched up and huddled into itself, hood up on the black jacket that was pulled over its knees. “Reina!” he called again.
He handed the bulk of the rope to Sherman as he donned his MoG Gloves so he could fast-rope down. “She’s here!” he yelled to Jackson and Sloan, who stood near the car.
“Someone’s here,” Sherman corrected him as he wound the rope around himself to provide counterweight, making himself the anchor for Wilson to pull against as he fast-roped down. “Can’t see who it is.”
Both men ran towards Wilson and Sherman. They each grabbed the rope to help provide enough anchor weight. With a tight rope between him and his team, Wilson turned to face the steel lining of the hole. Swinging out far enough for his body to stay off the wall would be a challenge. Ten feet wasn’t far, didn’t give him long to remain off the wall before he had to slow down. He tossed the line out about three feet and immediately leaped off the wall, jumping out as far as he could.
He dropped as fast as the rope he’d thrown and swung towards the wall as he descended. He gripped hard, slowing his descent, and put his legs out so his feet would impact the wall. Then he put his feet beneath him and on the ground. Success. He’d gotten down there without face-planting into the side of the steel wall.
“I’m down,” he yelled up towards the team, forgetting that his comms would transmit it if he switched it to transmit. They all peered over the edge with the beams from their flashlights lighting the hole. He approached the still figure. As he approached, he saw it wasn’t still. It shivered. Thank God. “Rae?” He dropped to a knee beside the black-coated figure and raised the hood. Wilson wrapped his arms around her. Relief surged through him. “It’s her!” he yelled up to the team. “Rae, talk to me,” he prompted, his voice softer. He noticed how cold she felt. “Are you okay, Rae?” he asked, becoming very concerned. Then he reluctantly released her, just long enough to open his backpack and get out his emergency blanket. She was freezing cold. He had to start the warming process even before they got her out of the hole.
Reina was sure Jimmy beside her had to be an illusion, as a bright unearthly light from above surrounded him. Had she finally slipped into unconsciousness and was dreaming? Or worse, had the cold killed her, and this was what happened when you crossed to the other side? She’d heard stories of people going into the light after they’d died.
She’d kept herself awake for the most part of the last two days since Blake had pushed her into this hole. She paced, did jumping jacks, anything to keep moving to stave off the hypothermia she knew was imminent. She’d foolishly tried to climb out of the hole several times, which brought new sore spots on her body when she fell from the bad hold the metal wall offered.
She’d cried, allowing self-pity to overwhelm her and then talked herself out of the mindset that she was going to die. An adamant refusal to accept this was how she’d go out. She’d survived so much already in her life. This was not how it would end. Then the despair of being cold, alone, thirsty, hungry, and afraidwould creep back in and she’d go through the range of emotions again, an endless cycle of thoughts.
She knew she had allowed herself to doze. She’d been exhausted. She’d crouched down and pulled the coat over her knees; thankful she had a large jacket. Balling herself up had helped her retained some warmth. If she wasn’t dead, maybe she was asleep.
“Rae?” Wilson asked when she didn’t speak. He now had her wrapped in the blanket, and he held her to his chest once again.
She felt his hand caress her cheek. He’d removed his glove. His hand was so warm. She pressed herself more firmly against him. Her arms were inside of her jacket, folded up tightly against her chest. She nodded. Her throat was parched from all the yelling for help she’d done. She wasn’t sure if she could speak.
He angled her chin so he could look her in the eye. “You’re safe.”
She nodded again, wide eyed and frightened. “Water,” her hoarse voice croaked out.
Wilson grabbed his bottle of water from his backpack and brought it to her lips. She gulped it down. He looked around and saw no bottle of water, no food. She’d been without food or water for at least twenty-four hours. He wondered how long it had been since she ate or drank anything?