part0017

She, Roz, and Fiona managed to carry Carol back to camp, using a crude litter made from a tarp. Carol promptly fell asleep, and Sarah and Roz had searched the camp carefully for traps. They discovered another patch of bear traps, this one on the path to the latrine, but the camp itself, as far as they could tell, was completely clear.

While they’d searched, Fiona had talked Jill into helping her set up the tents. Jill wasn’t speaking at all at that point, but she hadn’t hesitated to help, moving on to getting the dinner things ready once the tents were up.

Everyone ended up eating another cold meal, all of them too exhausted to whip up the energy for anything else, everyone silent except for Carol’s occasional groans of pain. Jill wouldn’t look at anyone, her eyes downcast, face pale. Fiona wanted to offer her something, some absolution or forgiveness, but she was so tired she couldn’t think of anything to say. Time would help, but maybe Roz was right. Maybe she needed to feel this way.

Finally, long before full dark, everyone helped Carol into her sleeping bag before they all went to their own tents and collapsed.

Fiona and Jill were woken several times by screaming in the night. Carol would pass out or fall asleep for an hour or two, only to wake everyone again with her cries. Fiona could hear Sarah soothing her from twenty feet away, her voice low and unintelligible, and Carol’s whimpers would gradually quiet and then cease again. Fiona would be tense for a long time after that, finally drifting off into an exhausted sleep before, almost as soon as she closed her eyes, it would start all over again.

Startled awake by screams for the fifth or sixth time, Fiona finally gave up and started getting out of her sleeping bag. A dim light filtered through the tent walls, which meant that dawn was finally here.

“Where are you going?” Jill asked, blinking sleepily.

Fiona met her eyes and frowned. “I can’t take it anymore. If I don’t get out of here and walk around a little, I’m going to lose my mind. I barely slept.”

Jill snatched her wrist, squeezing it painfully. “Don’t leave me. Not until I go back to sleep. Please, Fiona. I can’t stay in here alone.”

Fiona’s stomach dropped with dread. Besides Carol’s injuries, Jill’s fear and shame were possibly the worst part of all this. Always brave, always confrontational and brusque, the very definition of confidence, this diminished, frightened version of her friend was more terrifying than Fiona would ever have believed.

She relaxed a little and patted Jill’s shoulder through her sleeping bag. “Okay, Jill. I’ll stay for a little while. Close your eyes. Carol will quiet down again soon.”

Almost as if she’d willed it to happen, Fiona could hear Sarah again, soothing her wife, and Carol’s whimpers and groans once again subsided.

Jill’s grip gradually relaxed a few minutes later, and her face lost some of its tightness as she drifted off. Still, even sleeping, she appeared troubled, upset. They’d all been too tired to do much of anything last night, and Jill’s face was filthy with dirt and sweat. Fiona brushed a lock of sweaty blond hair off her face and rubbed her shoulder again, lightly. A deep and powerful tenderness swept through her, and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Her own exhaustion was making her sentimental and overly emotional, but she suddenly felt closer to Jill than she had in a long time. A fierce, almost angry protectiveness clenched at her heart, and remarkably, for a few minutes, she was no longer afraid. She would do everything to protect her friends. They were going to make it through this.

By the time she finally crawled out of the tent, leaving a sleeping Jill behind, the sunrise had already turned to a weak daylight, and the camp seemed almost bright in the early morning sunshine. She zipped up the tent as quietly as she could behind her and bent to lace her boots. Her body was screaming with aches and pains, and she limped stiffly toward Roz, who was already up and fully dressed. One look at her face, and Fiona could tell she’d either skipped sleep altogether, or had gotten very little. That confident strength seemed dim, weakened somehow, her tanned face drawn and pale.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Roz said, gesturing at the two little camp stoves she’d set up. “I was trying to be quiet, hoping everyone could sleep in a little to give you some extra energy.”

“What about you? Don’t you need sleep, too?”

Roz gave her a wan smile. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I couldn’t really sleep.”

Fiona glanced toward Carol and Sarah’s tent and nodded. “Me either. Not deeply, anyway.”

“This is such a fucking disaster,” Roz said. They’d been talking in near whispers, but she said this almost normally. Fiona made a quieting gesture, and Roz nodded and lowered her voice again. “Sorry. I’m just upset. I’m angry with myself.”

“What? Why? You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly. That’s exactly right. I didn’t do a goddamn thing. We should have gone back yesterday. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking to agree to this.”

Fiona took a step closer to her, tempted to touch her arm. She didn’t like seeing this woman, previously unshaken, so down. Her hand rose slightly at her side, and she forced it back down. Now wasn’t the time.

“You agreed to a compromise. None of us thought things would get this bad,” Fiona said.

Roz sighed and shook her head. “Yes, and now here we are, up shit creek, and all of this could have been avoided. I’m a goddamn idiot.”

“Hey,” Fiona said, louder this time. “Stop saying that. You helped plenty yesterday. None of us knew how to help Carol—only you. And you got us here.”

Roz laughed, the sound bitter and dark. “Yes, Fiona, and where are we? In the middle of fucking nowhere, surrounded by traps and God knows who or what the cause is, or why they’re doing this shit to the trees.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Roz stared at her, clearly surprised. “We? What do you mean? I’m the one that has to get us out of this.”

Fiona didn’t argue, biting back a hurt retort. “Fine. What are you going to do?”

Roz shrugged, sighing again. “The one thing I can do. I’m going to go get some help. If I leave after breakfast, I should be able make it to the road by dark if I run part of the way. I’ll travel light—some snacks and my water filter. I’ve done thirty miles in a day before, no problem.”

Fiona stared at her, horrified. “You mean you’re going to leave us here?”

“Of course. That’s all I can do.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Hey!” Sarah called from her tent. “Can the two of you keep it down out there? We’re still trying to sleep.”

“No, it’s okay,” Carol said, loud enough for them to hear. “I’m done pretending. What are you guys talking about out there?”

Sarah opened their tent flap, and she and Carol were revealed, both on their stomachs and propped up on their elbows, their faces small and strained inside their tent. Fiona was about to share what Roz had said, but she turned at the sound of another zipper. Soon Jill had climbed out of their tent, fumbling with the flap and the laces on her boots. She made eye contact with them and looked away, that shame and fear still clear on her face. Finally, she, Jill, and Roz walked closer to Carol and Sarah’s tent and sat on the ground so that they all faced each other.

Roz rubbed her mouth. “I was telling Fiona that I’m going back. It’s faster going back than going forward—thirty miles instead of a little over forty. I should be able to make the road if I run some of it—there’s a couple of stretches where I can do that safely. I’ll get Search and Rescue here as soon as I can—tonight maybe, or tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jill said, moving as if to stand up.

Roz grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the ground. “Hell, no. You’re staying right here. I can move faster on my own.”

“And leave us here?”

Roz nodded. “Yes. If I go right now, by myself, I might make it by four or five this afternoon. I could get people here quickly, maybe before midnight if they use vehicles.”

“Can they do that?” Fiona asked. These woods were incredibly dense. With no roads in these woods, she couldn’t imagine how they would bring a car or truck here.

Roz shrugged. “They use a helicopter sometimes, and horses. If they come on foot, it would be tomorrow sometime, and that might be too late.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, her voice rising with fear.

Roz leaned over and touched her arm. “I don’t mean anything, Sarah. I’m just worried about Carol’s ankle. It could set funny if a doctor doesn’t see it soon, and she’s obviously in a lot of pain. She needs sleep and rest, and she can’t get it out here like this. But I don’t really know how serious her ankle is. I only have a little first-aid training. Anyway, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Look,” Jill said, frowning at the ground. She finally made eye contact with Roz. “I know this is all my fault.” Her voice broke, and Fiona surged toward her, putting an arm around her shoulders. No one said anything as she cried, and some of the anger drained from Roz’s eyes.

Finally, Jill wiped her eyes with her arm and continued. “I’m sorry. You were right, everyone. I was a dumbass. We should have gone home yesterday. I admit it now. And I know you’re pissed at me. I’m pissed at myself, too. But I need you to hear me right now. Especially you, Roz.”

Roz chewed on her lip before nodding. “Okay. Say it.”

“You’re forgetting something.”

Roz frowned. “What?”

“Someone in these woods is trying to kill us. They’ve trapped us here on purpose.”

“There’s no—”

“Do you honestly think we’re safe here? What about the traps and the shit in trees, for God’s sake? And what if something happens to you? We’d be totally screwed. You’re telling us you might not come back until tomorrow. What happens if you don’t come back at all?”

Roz opened her mouth to retort but didn’t say anything. If she’d thought of this possibility earlier, she clearly didn’t have an answer for it. Maybe she’d hoped no one would bring it up. It was true. Things would be even worse if they waited another day and she never came back, and Roz had either ignored this fact or had suppressed it. Fiona had remembered thinking yesterday that following the river would eventually lead them back to the road, but how long would that take? Days? Longer? And what about Carol? Would she and Jill leave her here with Sarah if Roz didn’t come back?

“So what’s your suggestion?” Roz finally asked.

Jill flinched in surprise—clearly expecting more debate. She licked her lips. “Like I said—I’ll go with you. I’m fast. That way, we can watch out for each other, and, if need be, the second person can go on alone and get help.”

“I’m faster,” Fiona said, the words out of her mouth almost the second she thought them.

Jill laughed. “Bullshit.”

“I am, too. Remember that last time trial we did? I beat you by thirty seconds.”

Jill shook her head. “Yeah, but I was still getting over that cold—”

“You were not, and you know it. I beat you fair and square.”

“What is this, kindergarten?” Carol asked. “Jesus Christ, who cares who’s faster? Just decide already and go.”

Fiona stared at Jill, her anxiety a desperate burning in her throat. She knew why she wanted to go with Roz, and it had nothing to do with how attractive she was. No, her motivations were pure cowardice. She didn’t know if she could stay here and remain sane. Jill was motivated by her shame but, at the same time, her pride. Her fear this morning in the tent was gone now that she had a task. She wanted to be the hero.

“Okay. I won’t argue with either of you anymore,” Roz said, standing up. “I’m going to start getting some supplies ready. Whichever one of you comes with me, be ready in half an hour.”

After she’d walked away, Jill put a hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “Look—I know you want to help, but you also know I’m right. I’m faster and I’m stronger. I can see you’re on your last leg. And you’re injured.”

“It’s a scratch—”

Jill shook her head. “No, honey, it’s not. If you could see yourself in a mirror, you’d know it’s not just a scratch. You look terrible. And there’s no way you could make it thirty miles today.”

“Why can’t we both go?” Fiona could hear the whine in her voice and flushed with embarrassed shame. Jill was right. They both knew that.

“Because I can’t do this without you,” Sarah said, squeezing her hand. “I need help with Carol until they come back. And, if worse comes to worse, I would need help getting her out of here. I can’t do that on my own.”

Maybe it was the terror of yesterday, or maybe it was her emotional and physical exhaustion, but Fiona’s eyes filled with tears. Hurrying to avoid embarrassing herself, she launched herself to her feet, hands clenched at her sides. She was being childish, petulant, but she couldn’t help it.

“Fine. Just leave, Jill. You got us into this, so you can sure as shit get us out. Go. Be the fucking hero.”

“What are you talking about? Fiona, come on—don’t be this way.”

But Fiona was already walking away, seconds away from a full-on tantrum. She could hear the others calling her, but the blood pounding in her ears drowned out all sense from their words. She walked quickly, almost jogging away, heading in the direction of the hanging food. Still, when she hit the end of that trail, where most of the food was still hanging from the tree above, she kept going. The trees here were a little sparser, so she could find her way back, no problem. She needed to get away from her friends for a few minutes. If she didn’t, she would end up saying or doing something rash, something she’d regret. And surely Roz and Jill wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.

Almost as if obliging her sulk, she spotted a large fallen tree some fifty feet beyond the food. She found a kind of seat in the center of the tree trunk, almost as if nature had carved it for her. She threw a quick glance behind her as she approached, relieved to see that she could spot her path backward quite easily. The plastic bear canisters were obvious in the morning light. Despite her earlier confidence, the last thing she wanted was become lost back here.

The tree seat was at the edge of a small clearing ringed with pine and a few hardy-looking, twisted aspen. Her seat was shaded, and her legs dangled forward, toward the clearing. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the clean, warm mountain air, catching a whiff of baking pine needles. The birds were well into their morning song now, loud and cackling in the trees, and the air was nearly dead-still and breathless. Even here at nearly 9,000 feet, it would be a warm day.

She opened her eyes, feeling some of her earlier tension already draining away. After all, she told herself, Jill was the better athlete, and that’s all that mattered. She needed to go back and apologize, wish her and Roz success, then see what she could do to help Carol and Sarah. Maybe a hearty breakfast would make everyone feel better about all this. Her stomach growled at the thought, and she smiled in weary relief, feeling almost normal for the first time all morning.

With that, she launched herself up and onto her feet, her muscles groaning in protest. She’d pushed herself too hard yesterday, she knew that, and so did everyone else, apparently. It was true. She’d never make it thirty miles today, even without a heavy backpack.

She turned to return to camp, but something caught the corner of her eye. She spun back toward the clearing, puzzled, thinking that she’d sensed movement—an animal perhaps—but there was nothing. Her gaze darted around the trees, and she squinted, wondering what she’d seen. She shaded her eyes with a hand, peering into the trees. Frowning, once again turning to go, she finally saw it—a flash of bright green just beyond the trees across the clearing. It was a little patch of some plant, she told herself, but even before she moved closer, she knew better. That green was recognizable, very specific.

She walked toward it carefully, almost tiptoeing, as if afraid to startle or scare something wild hiding there in the woods. She wasn’t even halfway across the clearing before her suspicions proved right.

There, knotted around one of the mottled trunks of a young aspen, was a bright-green bandana.