Zachary tried to calculate how far down the mountain he had come before his injury. Mustering every ounce of strength and gasping with pain, he grasped the tree closest to him, placed pressure on his good leg, and hauled himself to a standing position. His heart sank. In all directions, a jungle of underbrush and small trees blocked his view. With the increasing darkness and underbrush, visibility ended in a few yards. Resigned to his plight, uncertain that a rescue party could locate him tonight, Zachary lowered himself to the ground. Tears stung his eyes. Think, he told himself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. His hands burned from bruises; still he scraped together leaves and mounded them to cushion his foot and ankle.

Zachary gathered twigs and small branches within arm’s reach. Stones were more available, and calling on old Boy Scout skills he fashioned a ring of stones into which he placed the wood. Out of habit, he carried a cigarette lighter, though since the birth of Sarah he no longer smoked. Soon, a small fire offered a measure of comfort and the hope that it would ward off animals attracted to the scent of his blood.

How long had it been since he prayed? How long had it been since he had stepped into a church? Was God available to people who ignored him until they were in deep trouble? Zachary lowered his head, closed his eyes, and bargained with God for protection and rescue; he would change his attitude, change his ways, treasure his wife and child, and be kind to his father and Hannah. He could hardly believe it when he heard the hum of an engine overhead and saw the lights of the helicopter bob and weave between the canopy of leaves.

“That a fire down there?” the pilot asked his copilot.

“Where?”

“There it is. Look. Over to the east.”

“I read you.”

The helicopter dropped lower. “There it is. It’s a fire, all right.” The copilot pointed.

“Well, at least we know he’s alive. Probably injured. When are these people gonna learn not to hike solo? Go ahead, drop a flare.” A moment later, light filled the night sky.

Farther down the mountain, Bob heard the roar of the helicopter.

“Max! See the light? It’s a helicopter, Search and Rescue. Hannah must have called them. Thank God. Look, Max, they’ve dropped a flare. There goes another one. They must have spotted him.”

The mountain blazed with light.

“Please God, they’ve found him.” Max grabbed Bob’s arm. “You think the helicopter found him?”

“Your son probably built a fire, and they saw it,” Bob said. “Otherwise they couldn’t have spotted him in the dark.”