Page 5 of One Last Shot
Peace. Or maybe just the hint of it. Still, maybe here?—
“Okay, we’re rolling, so anytime.” Huxley stepped back, her gaze on him behind her mirrored sunglasses. She wore her dark hair in two short braids, a white cap, a yellow parka, mukluks, and a sense of ease in this rugged landscape. But maybe that was the byproduct of standing in the shadows, filming the wild adventures of Mike Grizz and his victims.
No, notvictims. Celebrities who were crazy—or maybe desperate—enough to take the fifty-hour challenge.
He fell into the desperate category.When you find yourself in a hole, best stop digging...
Thanks, Dad.
He smiled into the camera, the red light blinking, and took a breath. “I’m standing here on the shores of a lake I can’t name, in the middle of breathtaking Alaska, not sure why I agreed to this.”
Huxley grinned and nodded.
“Except that I grew up on a ranch, and I love the wilderness, and who doesn’t want to hang out with the legendary Mike Grizz for two days, right?” He leaned into the camera and lowered his voice. “I’m actually supposed to be working on a new song, so maybe I’ll be inspired, right?” Now he winked.
That should get him some social-media love.
He took a step back. “I’m pretty much waiting for a bear or wolf to run out of the woods, and it looks like a blizzard might be heading my direction, but then again, it’s April. In Alaska. And not Anchorage but a hundred miles into the bush. In fact, that’s Denali behind me.” He turned and pointed to the fuzzy outline of a rugged chain of mountains, just over his right shoulder. “And it’s freezing.” He pulled his hat down, just for emphasis.
Huxley was motioning him to continue, so he looked over his left shoulder. “Behind me is my only escape—a chopper from a local rescue team who dropped me off so I can wait for Mike to pick me up.” He waved to the chopper pilot, a big guy who ran the rescue company they’d hired the chopper from, and then the executive producer, Reynolds Gray, who waved in return, now climbing back in after dumping a couple packs onto the ground.
“Honestly, I’m looking forward to pushing myself. I expect it to be crazy, off the hook, and wild.” He leaned in again and this time waggled his eyebrows. “I just hope I live through it.”
Then he winked again, and Huxley gave two thumbs up as she walked up to the camera and paused it.
“Great job. I’ll stick around until you get on the chopper with Mike, then you’ll be on your own.”
And that would be the part where he plummeted to earth.
“Don’t worry—Mike will tell you what to do. You’ll be fine.” She disassembled the camera from the tripod, packing it up and strapping it to her pack.
Oaken just stared at her. What, could she read minds?
“You’ve got the pre-jump look. You should have seen Winchester Marshall. He was ashen.”
No wonder they’d made him sign a couple thousand waivers. But what did he expect? Mike’s shows were all about survival, epic adventure, and crazy feats of bravery.
This might be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Or maybe the second stupidest?—
A hum burred the air, and he looked up to see another chopper clearing the tree line. Blue, it looked similar to the chopper that had brought him up from Anchorage this morning.
“That’s my cue,” Huxley said. She stepped up to Oaken and checked his chest-mounted camera, the one strapped over his shoulders. “This has enough battery life for all fifty hours, so just keep this running the entire time. We’ll edit it later.”
Then she picked up her pack and ran over to thefirst chopper, now firing up the blades. She climbed on, and in a moment, the red chopper took off, moving over to the lake, where it hovered.
Oaken stepped back, holding up his hand to protect his face from the snow that whisked off the lakeshore, and watched as the blue chopper settled where the other bird had landed earlier. A man sat on the deck, dressed in a ski jacket and thermal pants, worn hiking boots, and a helmet, and waved to him.
Oh boy.
He waved back.
Mike Grizz. Former Navy Seal, survivalist, free climber, brand icon, and now celebrity trail guide. A bona fide hero.
Oaken just hoped he didn’t look like a complete idiot next to him.Please just let me keep up.
Mike jumped out, ducked, then ran over to Oaken. He was lean, chiseled, and wore a bit of a beard—every inch the picture of an action hero.
And here it began.