He’d always been cautious of ticks, tiny but mighty enemies that could incapacitate or kill. A friend of his went out into the woods on a camping trip and came back out with the lifelong disabling effects of Lyme disease—pain, brain fog, exhaustion.
Exhaustion.
Gabriel didn’t remember anybody talking about the depth of this damned exhaustion.
He knew, though, that as soon as he was out on the mountain, when he smelled the thick richness of the leaf litter, the brightness of the evergreens, and felt the chill on his skin, this blanket that had settled over him would loosen.
“Good deeds are good medicine,” was a maxim he applied when he found himself sinking under the weight of the world.
Opening the bathroom door, Gabriel found Whiskey sitting there with the strange combination of excitement in her eyes and that look of perpetual gloom.
As Gabriel stepped over her to move back into the bedroom, Whiskey sneezed, spraying dog snot on his leg.
“Fair,” Gabriel said as he grabbed a hand towel. “I know you have a sensitive snoot, and here I smell like a chemical plant. I wonder what Daniel did to protect you from ticks.” He took another go at stepping over Whiskey to get to his room. “And I wonder if the potency of this tick spray is going to interfere with your search. I’m not going without spray, but I should have asked Reaper while he was on the phone.”
Whiskey bobbled over to sit beside Gabriel as he picked out the clothes he’d wear for the excursion. Every time he stepped, she stepped. It was as if she were afraid that if she didn’t stay close, she’d get left behind.
He flicked his tactical pants and stepped into them.
Gabriel would dress in layers. He had no idea how high up into the mountains they’d be heading and what the temperatures would be once he got there.
Poor little kids.
Daniel told Gabriel that he didn’t like searching for little kids because they often did things that made perfect survival sense but also made them extra hard to find.
Once, Whiskey found a child under a thick pile of leaves. When Daniel dug into the debris hill, she stopped to sniff at a lifeless hand.
Daniel said his heart was stuck in his throat. It was his job to uncover that child and be the first to discover what had happened.
People always think they’ll call in the helpers, but what if you were the one called in? Then it was all on you. 9-1-1 and their job was done.
In the military, there was always someone to call.
Sure, Gabriel was considered “tip of the spear,” but if he went down, the PJs would fly in, risking their own life and limb to save his.
If his team was ambushed, another team would show up.
But on that day, under those circumstances, Daniel was the top of that food chain.
It was on him to discover.
“You remember the kid in the leaves, Whiskey?” Gabriel tugged a silk underlayer over his head and wrestled it down over his chest. “Daniel was convinced that you’d found a body.” He tucked the shirt into his pants. “Sleeping.” He reached for a Marino wool shirt and shook the folds free. “Just sleeping.” He laughed. “To hear Daniel describe it, it was the greatest miracle that ever happened.”
That shirt was pulled into place and tucked in.
“Sleeping,” he said and stopped. His gaze caught on Whiskey’s. “That little kid was snug as a bug in the rug, curled up safe from the cold and the damp under a massive pile of leaves. And it was all because of your nose.”
He threaded a belt made of thick webbing through the waist loops. The buckle was designed to hook onto a rope if the ascent or descent needed a safety step that was quick and effortless.
He paused to reach down and rub Whiskey behind the ears in the sweet spot that made her back leg itch her side. “It sure would be nice if we had an outcome like that.”
He reached for a fleece that he’d put in his pack along with his waterproof windbreaker and a billed cap. Every element of his off-grid uniform was tried and tested under extreme circumstances, and he trusted the performance to keep him actionable.
“Come on, girl.” Gabriel turned and jogged toward the kitchen. “It’s going to be good,” he said. “I can feel it in my bones. We have a couple minutes until Uncle Reaper pulls up. Let’s go get some food in us.”
Gabriel started the coffee pot and laid out travel mugs—one for him and one for Reaper.
He stopped and sent a message to work, saying that he was out on the search and would check in as soon as he was back on grid.
