But he hadn't died.
Once he realized what had happened, he'd stayed on the mountain, surviving off the land, eating the deer he'd slain, picking the greens out of the ground once winter broke, and the permafrost had thawed. And, he'd waited.
He'd waited long enough, he no longer recognized himself in the water's reflection.
The rider stopped fifty feet from the cabin, looking over the old-timbered shack. The second he realized it wasn't anyone from the club or a local from Avery Falls, he took in the breasts, straining against the soft, pink T-shirt.
The woman shut off the ATV and pulled the helmet from her head. A pile of blonde hair tumbled down, covering her upper body to her elbows. She shifted on the seat, half-turned away from him. He cocked his head, never leaving his hidden position.
His balls tightened. It'd been a long time since he'd had any relief.
She turned back around, holding a large camera on a strap around her neck. Fluidly, she swung her leg off the ATV and stood beside the machine, eyeing the cabin to his left. He stayed concealed within the underbrush of the forest. Tourists never wandered deeper into the mountains. To reach this point, she had to have traveled through two seasonal creeks and navigated the elk trail—probably believing the narrow, single path was an old logging road that had grown over with vegetation.
He pulled his gaze off her, taking in the bag strapped to the ATV. Armed tourists were a regular occurrence. The Avery Falls Motorcycle Club preferred to see people prepared for anything when in the Bitterroot Mountains. It made less work for the club when the tourists policed themselves.
There were wild animals that would rather attack a lone adventurer. Just last year—no, two years ago before the project switched him, a hunter was severely injured in a cougar attack despite having a rifle and pistol on him for protection.
His toes curled in the dirt under his feet. The woman had more to worry about than wild animals. He could snap her neck before she got a chance to see him.
A soft gasp caressed his ears. He tilted his head. The danger of her finding him forgotten.
She lifted the camera, peering down the lens. The soft click of the shutter matched his heart rate. She moved softly over the pinecones, pine needles, and twigs littering the dirt ground, barely making any noise.
As if she danced to music he failed to hear, she swayed in a span of five feet or less. Minutes ticked by, and he found himself mesmerized by the way her attention remained fixed on what she could see through the camera lens.
So, when she appeared within twenty feet of him and stood in front of the cabin door, he stepped out from the bushes and startled her into stopping. No one could go inside.
Her gaze lowered and darted away, turning her head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize anyone was here."
"Go." His throat spasmed and trapped his voice.
He hadn't spoken in almost a year. Living alone, there was no need for talking.
She spun, catching his interest as if a deer had passed in front of him, heading toward the ATV. He charged forward on the hunt, grabbing her arm and covering her mouth with his hand, securing her to the front of him before she could get away.
He couldn't allow her to return to Avery Falls. She'd tell others about him, and word would spread around quicker than a wildfire. Those in charge of the Alpha Bio Project would find out he was alive and living in the mountains.
She screamed against the palm of his hand. No one would hear her. He needed to think. Looking over his shoulder at the cabin, he picked her up without letting her go and stalked toward the door, using his foot to kick open the flimsy wood.
He tossed her to the make-shift bed. She cried out in fear, and he barred the door and one half-window to her escape.
She sat up, holding her camera to her chest, and perched on the edge of where he slept each night. The wood contraption, lined with red fir branches, stuffed with moss, and covered with birch bark, gave him somewhere to lie down when he couldn't stay awake any longer.
"Please, I'm not here to bother you. I'm sorry I trespassed." She moved to get off the bed.
He put his hand up, stopping her. With her here, he had trouble focusing. Turning sideways, he peered out the dirty window. There was only one glass pane that had made it through the years. The rest, he'd covered with wood scraps he'd found on the roof. Studying the area in front of the cabin, he strained to hear any sound traveling up the side of the mountain that would warn him that more people were coming.
"Please," she whispered. "I was only taking pictures of the cabin. Look, I'll delete them. You can see. I won't infringe on your privacy."
He turned to her. "Who knows you're here?"
Her gaze darted away before she shook her head. "No one."
"You rented the ATV."
Her eyes widened. "Y-Yes, for the week. I've only had it one day."
"Who rented it to you?"
"I believe her name was Bonnie." Her mouth thinned. "I only talked to her for a few minutes. It was busy there, and they only had one 4-wheeler available. I could be wrong about her name."
The woman's gaze lowered again, and she looked away from him. He dipped his chin and realized his nudity made her uncomfortable.
There was nothing he could do about his lack of clothing. When he became aware of where he was, he'd had no clothes on.
"I'm a freelance photographer." She held up her camera. "I take nature and animal pictures. Please, look. I deleted the pictures of the cabin."
He walked to the bed, took the camera out of her hand, and flipped her over on the bed, patting the back pockets of her jeans.
"Oh, God. No. Please. No." She clamped her legs together.
"I'm not a rapist." He turned her over, feeling down the front of her. "Where's your cell phone?"
She panted for breath. "My pack. It's on the 4-wheeler."
"Stay." He strode to the door and went outside.
At the ATV, he brought in her pack and untied the bag and canvas duffle, lugging everything inside. She'd taken the time he was getting her things to stand up in the corner of the cabin, farthest area away from the bed.
He dropped all her belongings on the floor and searched the bags, finding the cell phone. Holding it up, he checked for a signal and found none. He tossed it on the bed when the Personal Location Beacon hanging from the caliper caught his attention.
Johnny rented those out from The Shack. It was a way for hikers to call in an emergency and track their location when cell service wasn't available. He unhooked the device, grabbed the cell, and placed both of them up high on the rafter, over the door, out of her reach.
"There's money in the inside pouch of my pack." Tears mumbled in her voice. "You can have everything. Just, please, let me leave."
He ignored her pleas. He'd heard a lifetime of begging, crying, and bargaining from the men in the cells he'd trained to become like him.
After being by himself and surviving the switch, he could remember things.
He wouldn't chance going back to Avery Falls and lose what he'd discovered.
His hope that one day, a club member would come close enough to the cabin he could make contact with them dwindled more with each passing day.
He fleetingly wondered if he should use the PLB. The call would go to the closest emergency service in St. Maries. But, to do so would involve other people. It was too risky. Too many people outside the safety of the motorcycle club would find out about him.