The Yuletide Rescue. Margaret Daley

lake or return to base and hope the teams on the ground would reach the survivors soon.

      * * *

      Fear held Bree immobile as she listened to the growls outside her snow cave. Her back plastered against the duffel bags in the opening, she gripped the loaded shotgun. She had extra ammunition in her front pocket and a knife in the other one. If the wolves managed to break through her barrier, she would defend herself as best she could.

      “Get back,” she yelled, swiveling around to point the weapon out a small hole. “If you don’t, I’ll shoot.”

      The wolves continued to yap and growl. A brave one came into the hole leading to her opening, blocking most of the light. Aiming down into the snow to avoid killing the animal if possible, she squeezed the trigger and the blast exploded from her gun. The wolf yelped; then silence followed. She peeked through the gap no bigger than a half-dollar and saw the animal backing out.

      Shaking, she eased her grip on the shotgun, her hands aching. Her heartbeat thundered a fast staccato rhythm in her ears, almost drowning out another sound—the welcomed sound of a plane flying overhead. She prayed the pilot could make out the wreckage despite the fresh snow that had fallen overnight. What if the aircraft had sunk totally into the water, taking with it Jeremiah’s body? She’d wanted to check this morning because all night long she’d heard the creaking of the ice. But then the wolves had arrived.

      And the pack was getting braver as the minutes ticked away.

      Bree listened for more sounds of the plane overhead. Nothing. And the wolves were still outside her snow cave. The sun no longer shone. Although darkness wouldn’t fall for another few hours, the light had dimmed. Was more bad weather moving in? If so, her rescue would be delayed further.

      But someone knew where she was—at least she thought so. She clung to that hope even when another wolf returned to the opening, its low growls sending shivers down her spine.

      A gunshot cracked the air. She peered through a gap in the bags. The wolf was gone.

      The person in the plane? Had he found her after all?

      Another blast pierced the cold air, accompanied by a yelp.

      Then more silence.

      “Help! I’m in here,” Bree shouted. She slowly removed the bags from the entrance and crawled from her haven.

      When she emerged from the snow cave, the wind whipped against her and her gaze latched on to white bunny boots. Lifting her head, she trekked upward past black extreme-cold pants and parka to a face covered by a balaclava and a pair of dark goggles. The lone man must be six-three or six-four, with a muscular physique. Her attention fixed upon the revolver in his gloved hand.

      Friend or foe? Her heart seemed to stop beating for a couple of seconds, then it raced.

       TWO

      David stared down at Dr. Aubrey Mathison, and she peered up at him with huge brown eyes widened by fear. He’d seen that look many times over his twenty years in the military. Removing his goggles, he smiled. “I’m here to take you and Jeremiah back to Anchorage, Dr. Mathison.”

      She blinked, transfixed for a long moment.

      “The wolves are gone. They won’t be back.” I hope.

      She fit her hand in his outstretched one. When he tugged her up, she scanned the area. Through the dense evergreens, her attention fixed on the aircraft, partially submerged in the water, the front end clinging to the shore as though glued to the ground. “Jeremiah’s dead,” she murmured in a thick voice.

      “In the crash?”

      “No, I believe he had a heart attack.” She swung her gaze to his; pain reflected in her eyes’ expressive depths.

      “I’m sorry. Jeremiah was a good man. He’d assist occasionally with air searches when we needed extra help.”

      “We?”

      “The Northern Frontier Search and Rescue. I’m part of that organization.” David glanced to the west and frowned. “We’d better get out of here. A storm is moving in. My plane is about a mile from here. I didn’t think it was safe to land on the lake.”

      She stared at Jeremiah’s aircraft. “He saved my life. He managed to land even when he was in pain. The ice didn’t crack until last night. I heard it from my snow cave.”

      “Good thing you didn’t stay in the plane and you made yourself a shelter.”

      “God was looking out for me. Let me get my duffel bags.”

      While she crawled back into her snow cave, David traipsed a few feet closer to the plane at an angle to the left and looked through the stand of trees between him and the lake. All evidence of Aubrey’s footprints yesterday along the shore was gone. Inches of new snow blanketed the landscape.

      He’d need to let the authorities know about the conditions for when they retrieved Jeremiah’s body. Through the broken windshield of the plane, he saw the older man slouched over the steering wheel. He’d seen his share of death while serving in the Middle East, but it was always hard, especially when he knew the person. A memory threatened to worm its way into his thoughts. He slammed it back into the past.

      “I wish there was a way to take him back with us.”

      At the sound of the doctor’s voice, he turned. “Me, too, but we need to leave now.” He closed the short distance between them and handed her a thermos of water. “Drink this. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

      “Thanks. What water I had I finished last night. The wolves came before I built a fire to melt some snow.”

      After she returned the jug, David took both of her bags. “Let’s go.”

      “I can at least carry one.” She tried to take the nearest duffel, but he declined.

      He started up the incline, his grip firmly in place on both handles. “I doubt you slept much if any last night. I’m rested, hydrated and well fed.”

      She slogged behind him. “I had several protein bars with the last of my water. I was conserving the rest in case I wasn’t rescued right away, especially when the storm continued through last night. I had to clear my entrance every hour.”

      “And never warmed up?”

      “I spent ten minutes shoveling drifts away from the snow cave, then fifty minutes huddling in the sleeping bag with all the clothes and blankets I could pile on me.”

      “A long night,” David said as he crested the rise circling the lake and started for the thicker wooded area a couple of yards away.

      The repetitive sound of a helicopter’s rotary blades caused David to stop and turn at the edge of the snow-caked grove of evergreens. No one he’d contacted while organizing the search was in a helicopter. Maybe they were fleeing the winter storm, then had spotted the down plane and were coming to help.

      Something instinctively prompted him to step back in the shadows of the trees, pulling the doctor with him. Then he waited for the chopper to come closer. It slowed and hovered over the wrecked aircraft. The chopper was all white with no visible markings on it. He thought instantly of a covert mission. But here? Why Jeremiah’s plane?

      “Shouldn’t we let them know I’m okay?” she asked, taking a step forward.

      He urged her back. “No. I’ll radio in when we get back to the plane that you’re safe. The people searching by air are using planes, but with this storm they should be returning to their base, as we should be.”

      Suddenly two men, dressed totally in white, lowered themselves to the ground using ropes. Rifles were strapped across their backs and each one also had a sidearm. The hairs on David’s nape stood up, and his gut roiled.

      Although he and Aubrey were a distance