The Saint of Carleton Estates

"Promise me you'll call me tomorrow," she said.

"We won't have reception in the day when we're out, but once I'm back to camp I'll check in."

"You promise?"

"Of course, Emmy." She told him she loved him and he returned it before disconnecting. The boys heard that and gave him a good razzing. Bobby's aw-shucks grin was worth it.

"I really wanna thank you guys for making it out," Coy said, toasting their evening with a can of beer. "We're gonna have a great weekend and get something big to take back with us." Brett and Bobby saluted and drank. Eating and good-natured laughter were the order of the evening.

The revelations of the summer had faded, and the aura of Bobby as something more than a man had faded with it. Outside of his focus at work, he was still Bobby. Still the quiet, unassuming guy he'd always been. After the disaster at the last Estates party, it seemed almost like ancient history among the boys. Beyond Bobby's unnatural traffic prowess, there had been no miracles to disturb the friendship.

"Bobby, you're back with Emmy now?" Coy asked, lighting a post-dinner joint.

"We're taking things slow. It's not the same as it was before, but ..." he took a hit of the joint passed to him. "She's a sweetheart." Bobby got the feeling the boys wanted a bit more of a play-by-play, but Bobby seemed content to end that avenue of conversation right there. The good-natured joking and talking continued for a while longer before the boys tired and took to their sleeping bags in order to make an early start in the in morning.

Dawn came and it looked like a sunny but brisk day. They broke camp and stashed their gear in the car to keep a low profile. Gear bags included a number of beers, about a dozen joints, and some snacks for the day's activities. With that they set out for the hunt.

The morning was pleasant but unremarkable. The sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds, but the weather was calm enough. The terrain was walkable but became steep in some places. The hills had a few drop-offs of a few dozen meters, but were easily noticeable and the boys simply followed the worn paths around them.

Breaking for lunch, the boys hadn't seen much of anything in the area to even raise a gun at, but the banter had continued from the evening before, with each of them taking a turn being the subject of the ribbing. Snacks were had, and a few beers washed them down. Everyone felt comfortable and there was optimism for the afternoon, as the territory was a bit wilder.

As they walked in the afternoon, the first hint of trouble came when the sun dipped behind a wall of clouds. The temperature dropped, and the gradually the boys spoke of maybe ending the afternoon a bit early to return to camp.

About an hour later, the wind picked up, and the temperature dropped further. With the warmer ground and the cooler air above it, a fog had descended onto the mountain. Suddenly, the paths, both forward and backward, were no longer obvious. The boys realized the potential danger: hunting in worsening conditions without proper gear or even directions was a recipe for disaster. While they had high-visibility gear on, the fog was obscuring the colors at more than a few dozen yards. If they ran into other hunters, they risked being shot at. The hunt was over, for the day at least, and the boys reversed course.

That fog though had made things more difficult than just 'head back the way they came'. Conditions were worsening and the path back was winding through a mix of easy grades and a few risky drop offs. The boys estimated they were still an hour away from camp when the skies darkened further and the first snowflakes fell. In reality, they had gone off course and were heading in the wrong direction.

This was rapidly becoming a disaster. Now there was an urgency to getting back, as being trapped out of camp, in snow without real cold weather gear or proper supplies could result in lethal conditions.

The scenery was actually quite beautiful when they could see it, and the woods and mountain were silent except for the quiet whispers of snow falling and of their own footfalls. The boys were barely noticing, as they were trying to keep their focus on the path that they thought was leading back to camp. Visibility continued to drop, and the conversation among the boys dropped to almost nothing beyond warnings of obstacles and discussing direction changes.

By midafternoon, it seemed like dusk on the hill, and the boys were stopped to break out some energy bars for snacks. They couldn't afford to stop for long, so they ate while walking. However, they had drifted off course but were unable to note this due to the reduced visibility.

The course they had chosen had brought them out of a small stand of trees, and Brett in the lead, missed a slickened stone. The fall wasn't much, maybe seven feet, but the awkward landing and the suddenness of the fall was what did the damage. Brett felt the crunch in his ankle and cried out. The noise stopped Bobby and Coy in their tracks.

"Brett!" they both called out.

"Dammit," Brett was in a heap at the bottom of the rock. The pain shooting through his leg was a terrible sign. "Watch it, or you'll end up down here too." Bobby's head peered out over the rock. Brett was sitting, holding his knee to his chest but gingerly testing his ankle.

"You OK?" Coy's face appeared next to Bobby's.

"Yeah. Ankle's fucked though. Might've broke it. Definitely sprained bad at best." Bobby and Coy got low and slid down the rock to Brett. There was no point in fussing with him. They needed to get moving. Helping Brett up, Bobby offered his shoulder and put his arm around his friend.

"You guys recognize any of this from this morning?" Coy asked.

"Not really. Can't see more than a few yards in front of my face," Brett said, a bit out of breath, with exertion and pain.

"Let's just get back to where we were and see if we can pick up the path again," said Bobby. Unspoken was that being off course, and now saddled with an injured companion, they were running out of time and risking real danger potentially having to spend the night on the hill under-equipped and in foul weather.

Coy and Bobby alternated helping Brett, but when an early darkness settled, the boys knew they were out of options. They had made their way back into the wooded area, but were unsure of where they were. A night on the hill was their only option, at the risk of getting more lost.

Finding a relatively flat space, they put Brett down and set to building some simple shelter and collecting wood for a fire. The location was covered enough that they weren't directly exposed, and the snow fall was light enough that they hoped the accumulation wouldn't be more than a dusting.

Within thirty minutes, they had rigged a simple lean-to and managed to get a small fire going. The three of them gathered around the fire and did their best to warm themselves. There was enough duff on the ground, but the snow had made much of it wet, and it wouldn't burn well. To keep the fire going they had a limited supply of materials they could use. They also had to keep the fire small, as if it got too big and sparked, they may not be able to escape fast enough carrying the injured Brett.

All of these considerations plus the exertion of the day left three exhausted men, shivering and huddled over the small fire. Coy reached into his pack.

"Oh shit," the pink color ran from his cheeks. "Guys, I'm out of food."

Brett, reached into his bag, propped up behind him. "I got a power bar left. A coupla beers too."

Bobby looked in his pack. "Same," he said, pulling out a single energy bar and a bag of pork rinds.

For a split second, Brett and Coy were worried. That wouldn't be enough for three exhausted men stuck in the wilderness. Bobby just took his gloves off, sat down and held the snack in his hands. Closing his eyes and whispering, there was a gentle rustle of the wind, a faint whiff of an electrical charge like ozone and then Coy and Brett felt their ears pop, like using an elevator in a really tall building. Then there was a crinkle of plastic wrap.

Brett screamed and Coy jumped. A dozen energy bars, and three bags of pork rinds had appeared, from nowhere, behind Bobby. Aside from the saving of Benny and Bobby traffic wizardry, the boys had never seen Bobby make things appear. To say it was unsettling was putting it mildly. Bobby repeated the feat holding a can of beer. Another gust, the electrical coppery smell and another popping of the ears and twelve cans of cheap beer appeared with a soft thud in the dirt.

Coy and Brett stared.

Breathing hard, Bobby gathered up the miraculous food and drink and gave it to each of them. When they didn't move, he just dropped in front of them.

"C'mon. Eat," Bobby said. Only their eyes moved, following him. Bobby opened his food and ate hungrily. There was complete silence except the soft snowfall, the sound of Bobby's food wrappers and his chewing. "Guys, you ate when this was at one of your barbecues. It's the same thing, only this time it's saving our lives. Eat!"

Brett reached out and opened his snacks, while Coy stared for a moment, and then opened a beer. Taking a long pull, he hoped Bobby could get more beer, he was gonna need it.

They ate in silence, with the only conversation was about drinking enough of the beer to get fluids back into their bodies, but not get drunk. Too much of the alcohol in the beer was dangerous in the cold if it lowered their body temperature.

"Bobby, you can just turn it into water anyways, right?" Coy said, now opening his own bag of pork rinds.

Bobby grinned a soft and tired smile. "That's right. OK, but still, don't get too drunk. I'd rather not spend the energy if I don't have to." They both nodded.

Once a small, nutritionally unbalanced but high energy meal was eaten, Coy and Bobby searched for more fuel for the fire. They would need to get through the night keeping the small fire banked against the wind while keeping it alight. They weren't shivering, but they were cold and uncomfortable. Brett had it worse, as being immobile, he couldn't easily generate extra body heat. But it looked like they would be OK for the night.

Once the pile of fuel looked big enough, Bobby laid down as close as he could to the flames and curled up into a ball. He was asleep almost immediately. Coy and Brett just exchanged quiet and nervous looks, sipping beer and occasionally nibbling on the heavily-salted snack treats before exhaustion took them as well.

Dawn came gradually and the boys woke to stiff joints, cold toes and feet, some light snow accumulation and a few coals in the fire. Coy fed the fire and used his lighter to stoke the flames again. Carefully, once it got going, each sat holding their hands and feet as close as they could to get the warmth back into them. Eating the left overs, the boys drank more of the beer to keep their fluids up.

Coy walked off to the edge to piss and get a look at their surroundings. Bobby and Brett spoke quietly until he returned. His report wasn't encouraging. "It looks the same, some snow and limited visibility. It's tough to get a read, but I don't recognize where we are. We might be really lost."

"Well we gotta try to get back, and we gotta get Brett to a doctor soon." Bobby said.

Brett nodded. "It's swollen up pretty bad in the boot, and I'm not sure if I can feel my toes."

"Fuck," Coy looked down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Emmy knew something was wrong when Bobby didn't check in during the evening. When the night passed and there was still no response, she began to worry. She called the police to report that the boys had not checked in during a hunting trip in the mountains. They transferred her to the state police who took down her information. They assured her that they would reach out to the Forest Service responsible for the area where the boys were hunting.

Forty-five minutes later, a call came into Emmy. The Forest Service was calling her to get more information and then noted that there was bad weather on the mountain but that they would put people on it that morning. Emmy was extremely agitated but couldn't speak more than a few words, thanking the person. As soon as the call ended, she began sobbing.

By lunch time, the Forest Service called again. Emmy snatched the phone, answering with a panic. The Ranger had some good information, saying they had found Bobby's car, but there was no sign of the boys. A team was looking for them in the likeliest places. The weather had broke on the mountain, meaning that the snow had stopped.

"Snow?" Emmy whispered.

"It wasn't a big accumulation, but it was making things worse by covering tracks and making the ground more slippery. The danger is that if they're stuck up on the hill, there's a cold front coming in and they're exposed. It's gonna get real cold up there."

The tears were flowing again by the time she hung up. There was a time limit to getting Bobby and the boys back and it was running out fast.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Up on the hill, the boys' movement was slow. The rough terrain and the slippery footing were bad enough. But Brett was wincing and in visible pain as each aided step shook his ankle. The boys tried to be as gentle as they could, but the need to get down was getting desperate. They could feel the cold set in, despite the clearing sky.

The boys were drifting further off course, due to the need to keep the damage to Brett to a minimum from crossing the tougher but more direct terrain. A pause for a morning snack and a quick survey of the area by Coy brought no good news. No familiar landscape signs were there. They were able to use the Sun as a marker but that was still not very encouraging.

They set out again, quietly, until they broke again for lunch. Bobby replenished the supplies again; Brett and Coy were too exhausted to be amazed at the miracle in front of them. The act exhausted an already-depleted Bobby and he needed to take some extra time from the exhaustion of creating something from nothing.

Conversation during the walk was low and hushed. Each tried to keep some optimism and humor in their voices, but the reality of the situation was pretty bleak. Half the day was gone and they weren't sure of where they were and faced a real possibility of another night on the hill if fortune didn't start turning their way soon.

Minutes, then hours passed and the light began fading. Bobby had developed a cough, nothing severe, but it was persistent. Still it was yet another hindrance to their progress.

Things were mildly better, as the boys began to recognize familiar way points in the distance, but these just showed how far off course they had been and were still several hours away from camp and that was under optimal walking conditions. And they were hurt and exhausted.

They were in an exposed area when they realized they were not going to make it back to camp that day. They began the chore of finding shelter to make a camp for a second night on the hill. That alone took time to find enough trees to be useful, and then Coy and Bobby began looking to find materials for some shelter and fire. Temperatures began their evening drop, highlighting the necessity to be efficient.

Both were staggering by the time the fire was started, and the last of the rations were brought out. All three were ravenous and wolfed down their food, saving a packet for Bobby to use to replenish. It was clear he'd need to.

Bobby took the packet, and began whispering, after a few seconds, he swayed. Brett and Coy felt the small wind and pressure drop, but both were much softer this time. A few packets of BBQ chips and three beers appeared, but no more. Bobby had collapsed, eyes shut and lips barely twitching.

Coy cried out and dove for his friend. Brett was sitting up, trying to maneuver over to be of aid, but he had to navigate around the small fire. Coy put up his hand to stay Brett. "He's breathing," Coy stripped his gloves and put cold fingers to Bobby's throat. "Pulse is OK. He's passed out. I think he'll be OK, but it looks like he's too tired for alla this." Coy carefully positioned Bobby in a fetal curl near the fire and passed a share of the last of the food and drink to Brett.

They could do nothing but wait as the night set in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Emmy had gone to the Estates and picked up blankets and clothes from Bobby's place before setting out for the mountains. The Forest Ranger had given her a location where Bobby's car was found; she was told that the Rangers were using this as a base of operations, so she aimed her car in that direction and set off, tears blurring her eyes for most of the trip.

By the time she reached, night had fallen. She introduced herself and asked if there was anything she could do. The Ranger in charge politely told her no, but she was welcome to stay, as long as she let the team do its part. They had called off the search for the safety of the team, but they would stay there for the night. They invited her to stay in warm cars and tents, if she wanted.

Emmy just paced, frantic about getting the boys back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was well after dark when Bobby began to stir. His eyes opened to find Brett staring at the low fire, and Coy sitting, knees drawn up to his chest and his head bent forward.

"Hey," he said, rising slow. "How long was I out for?" A soft cough shook Bobby frame, making him seem smaller and less substantial.

Coy's head came up and Brett smiled, a weak but genuine smile. "Coupla hours. How you doin', miracle man?"

"I don't know about that, but I guess I'll have to make it."

"Eat up Bobby," Coy nodded to the last of the food. "It looks like that's the last of it for now." They both had taken part of their own stash and put it with Bobby's, to try and get him some more calories.

"I can try to make more ..." He looked at his pile an noticed it was larger than expected.

"It's OK, Bobby," Brett said. "We'll make do. We need you to be strong now. We all gotta make it out of here, but you're our best chance to do that." Bobby nodded and quietly ate what he could. Despite being ravenous, he couldn't really eat that much. The food was empty calories and the boys needed something more substantial.

They talked quietly, trying to stay upbeat, but some darker silences crept in. As Brett repositioned himself, he winced at his ankle.

"How is it?" Coy asked.

"Hurts. Pretty bad by the feel of it. Feels real swollen but I don't wanna take the boot off. Might not get it back on."

Coy's eyes flashed for a moment. Reaching for his pack, he unzipped an inner pocket and pulled out the rolled joints. "Shit, almost forgot these." He pulled one out and handed it to Brett. "Maybe it'll take an edge off."

"Can't hurt," Brett said. Within moments, gloves were off and the joint was passed around, with each of them taking a few puffs.

When the joint was about halfway, Bobby paused with it in his hand.

"Bobby? Something wrong," Coy asked.

Bobby held the joint between two fingers, pointing upwards. He shook his head, but a sly grin crept in.

Connections were being made.

Closing his eyes, Bobby began to whisper. Coy and Brett looked at each other, wondering what was happening.

Within a few seconds, the wind picked up, and there was that familiar pressure drop. The joint began to sizzle between Bobby's fingers.

"Oh shit," Brett breathed, careful not disturb Bobby.

After a few seconds, the sizzling stopped. The joint flared brightly and launched upwards before hitting a tree branch overhead and exploding brightly. Brett and Coy dove to cover their eyes. Once they looked again, Bobby was looking up in awe, grinning wide and joyfully.