The Bodies Left Behind

seal.
    She turned it over and looked at the clasp pin on the back.
    Could this actually work?
    “Come on.” She led Michelle to a nearby stream and dropped to her knees. She began to clear away a thick pelt of leaves, saying, “Find me some rocks. About the size of a grapefruit.”
    “Rocks?”
    “Hurry.”
    The young woman grimaced but began walking up and down the bank, picking over stones, while Brynn cleared a space on the bank. The ground was cold; she could feel the chill through her knees. They began to ache. From her pocket she took the clear bottle of rubbing alcohol, the Chicago Cutlery knife and the candle lighter. Set them on the ground in front of her, next to her badge.
    Michelle returned, limping along with five large rocks. Brynn needed only two. Forgot to mention that.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Making a compass.” This had been in the survival manual issued by the State Police, though the teamBrynn was on had not actually made one. But she’d read the material and thought she remembered enough to craft the instrument.
    “How can you do that?”
    “I’m not sure I can. But I know the theory.”
    The idea was simple. You pounded a needle or pin with a hammer, which magnetized it. Then you rested it on a piece of cork floating in a dish of water. The needle aligned itself north and south. Simple. No hammer now. She’d have to use the back of the knife blade, the only metal object they had.
    On her knees, Brynn set a rock in front of her. She tried to break the pin off her badge by bending it. The metal would not fatigue, though. It was too thick.
    “Shit.”
    “Try to cut through it with the knife,” Michelle suggested. “Hit it with a rock.”
    Brynn opened the pin as far as she could, laid it on the rock and set the blade against the base of the needle. Holding the Chicago Cutlery in her left hand, she tapped the back with another rock. It didn’t even make a mark.
    “You’ll have to hit it hard,” Michelle said, now intrigued with the project.
    She slammed the rock into the pin once more. The blade made a slight scratch on the needle but danced along the chrome metal. She couldn’t hold both blade and badge down on the rock in one hand.
    Handing the rock to Michelle, she said, “Here. You do it. Use both hands.”
    The younger woman took the second rock, the “hammer,” which weighed about fifteen pounds.
    In her left hand Brynn continued to hold the wooden knife handle. She cupped her palm around the badge and, with her fingers, gripped the end of the blade, near the point.
    Michelle looked at her. “I can’t. Not with your hands there.” Michelle had about an eight-inch target on the back edge of the knife. A miss could crush one of Brynn’s hands. Or flip the blade sideways and slice the pads off her fingers.
    “We don’t have any choice.”
    “I could break your fingers.”
    “Go ahead. Don’t tap. Hit hard. Come on, do it!”
    The young woman took a deep breath. She lifted the rock. Then grimaced, exhaled and swung the stone in a blur.
    Whether it was headed for Brynn’s fingers or for the knife was impossible to tell but Brynn didn’t move a muscle.
    Snap.
    Michelle hit the blade clean, driving it through the metal and cutting off a two-inch bit of needle.
    Which spiraled through the air and disappeared in a shadowy sea of leaves near the stream.
    “No!” Michelle cried, starting forward.
    “Don’t move,” Brynn whispered. Presumably their prize had landed on top of the pile, though it wouldn’t take more than a footstep to send it slipping into the leaves, lost forever. “It couldn’t have gone very far.”
    “It’s too dark. I can’t see anything. Damnit.”
    “Shhhh,” Brynn reminded. They had to assume that Hart and his friend were still after them.
    “We need the lighter.”
    Brynn leaned toward the leaves. The young woman was right. In this dense grove, with the light of a half moon, sliced to pieces by a thousand branches and stubborn leaves still clinging to them, it was impossible to see the metal. But the candle lighter would shine like a warning beacon atop a skyscraper for Hart to see.
    Again, the bywords for the evening came to mind: no choice.
    “Here.” Brynn gave her the lighter. “Go around there.” She pointed to the far side of the pile. “Keep it low and wave it over the ground.”
    Michelle hobbled off. “Ready?” she whispered.
    “Go.”
    A click and the flame blossomed. It was far brighter than she’d expected.