Rescue by Marie Etchell

Author:Marie Etchell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Deer Press
Published: 2022-08-12T15:59:27+00:00

Chapter 23

Campers

There was just enough firelight to see a little settlement.

A log had been pulled up close to the fire, and a man was sitting on it, leaning toward the warmth as close as he could.

Charlie let out his breath, trying to make sense of what he could see. There was a two-man tent, exactly like the one Mom had bought at Bargain Mart, but had eventually thrown out because it leaked.

Just to the side of the tent, a sheet of plastic had been tied up between trees, to make a covered area. Dingy underwear hung from a makeshift clothesline, and two green garbage bags, brimming over with something, lay under the plastic.

Charlie felt the tension in his shoulders release. There was nothing to be afraid of here.

The man didn’t look very old. His hair was long and tangled, and even in the dim light of the campfire, his runners looked wet, his jacket thin and worn.

Charlie swallowed, thinking of the puffy jacket and the waterproof shell he’d got at the start of the school year.

Why was the man here? Was he trying to sneak across the border? But then, why would he set up camp? Maybe he was mentally ill, and couldn’t cope with life in the real world. Or drug addicted. But then, he wouldn’t stay here. Maybe he was homeless and had nowhere else to go.

Charlie eased himself back down, below the top of the stump.

Buster licked Charlie’s eyebrows.

Charlie stared at Buster, thinking hard. Something about their current situation reminded him of a story called “The Shepherd.” His family listened to it every Christmas Eve. It was about a Second World War fighter pilot, who gets shot down over the English Channel. But in the years that follow, he returns from his watery grave to guide lost pilots through the fog.

“Is that what you are, Buster?” he whispered into the dog’s ear. “Are you like the shepherd, still rescuing people, even when everybody thinks you’re too old to be good for much?”

Buster held Charlie’s gaze, his tail thumping.

A foul smell floated into the air between them.

“Braghhh.” Charlie screwed up his face. “At a time like this,” he mouthed, “you fart?” He leaned back against the stump.

Buster shimmied closer, so their bodies were touching again.

Charlie put his arm around Buster’s shoulders. “I think you are like the shepherd,” he whispered. “You brought us this far. But now I think it’s up to me.”

A sharp cry pierced the silence of the forest.

Charlie froze, listening, but there were no other sounds.

He shifted onto his knees, pulling himself up, so he could see over the top of the stump. The tent flap opened. A woman struggled out, one arm clutching a baby, the other grasping the edge of the tent to keep her balance. She stood up and half-stumbled toward the fire.

Charlie stared. She could have been Mark’s girl­friend, she was so young. She had on jeans and a dark hoodie. Her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. She bounced the baby up and down in her arms, her whole body shaking with the effort.

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