“I’m sorry. I just wanted to save them.”
Bear crushed him in a big hug, gave a little sob.
“It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.” But then Austin couldn’t resist. “Do you know which of these little boys in the photograph is you?”
Bear pointed to the oldest child.
The journal entry had been written in 1959. The two younger children hadn’t been born yet, and the middle daughter had been a nursing baby. Bear must have been six when the entry had been written. He looked like he was around ten years old in the photo. That meant he must be almost sixty-five years old now.
Holy shit.
Austin tried to remember what he’d read. “Your name is Matthew, right?”
Bear stared open-mouthed at him, tears in his eyes.
“No one has called you that in a long time, have they, buddy?”
Bear pointed at the image. “Mama. Papa. Luke. Paul. Mary. John. Elizabeth.”
“That’s your family—your parents, your brothers and sisters.”
Bear nodded. “They’re waiting for me in heaven.”
What an awful thing it must have been for Bear to lose them all.
“Can I put these in my pack to keep them safe while we walk to town? You can have them back any time you want.”
Bear nodded again, yielding the precious items to Austin’s care.
Austin did his best to explain the situation—how he’d run from the fire, how he’d taken refuge in the lake, how the cold water had left him dangerously hypothermic. “I need to get to the hospital.”
Bear stood. “Old Bear will take you to Winona.”
Bear sometimes took sick and injured wildlife to Winona.
Austin chuckled. “Okay. Thanks.”
In the next instant, he found himself hauled to his feet, Bear half-carrying him down the dirt road. The man was a lot stronger than Austin realized. Then again, he’d lived his entire life in the wilderness, fending for himself, and was taller than Austin, who was six-three, by a good four inches.
“Have you seen any helicopters?”
“No.”
Damn.
They plodded down the road, passing through a smoky wasteland, charred snags and smoldering logs all that remained of a once-thriving forest, green replaced by black and gray. Austin stumbled more than once. He’d have fallen to the ground again if Bear hadn’t been there to hold him up. Neither of them said much, Austin because he was struggling to remain conscious and Bear because, well, he was Bear.
Austin was exhausted. Just being awake was painful. “Don’t let me fall asleep, Bear. If I do, I might never wake up.”
Bear started singing, old hymns, whether to pass the time or to keep him awake, Austin couldn’t say. Austin didn’t know the lyrics, but delivered in Bear’s rich baritone, the words were comforting.
Austin found himself wanting to ask Bear what had killed the rest of his family, how old he’d been when he’d been left alone, and how he had managed to survive. But he didn’t want to hurt Bear with careless questions. Besides, he could scarcely think.
What he wouldn’t give to see a rescue chopper head their way. A heated blanket, some warm IV fluids, some warm oxygen, and he’d be good. But there was no chopper, not even the beating of the rotors in the distance.
Why wouldn’t they send someone? Hawke knew where he’d gone. He’d surely send someone to make sure Austin was okay. Unless…
Maybe the situation was too dire and they couldn’t, or maybe …