It takes less than half an hour until we’re snuggled into the cab of a big-ass pickup truck. Sophie sits next to one of the Trail Angels, Nicholas Granger, who will give us a ride up to Wilmington, North Carolina.
“We were planning to do the whole trail, but then I hurt my leg,” Sophie explains. “I told him to go without me, but Wild Thing wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Good man, Wild Thing.”
“What’s your trail name?” Sophie asks.
Nicholas turns a slight shade of pink. “Don’t have one.”
“We should call you Saint Nick then.”
The guy chuckles and she shoots me a smile, like she knows Nick is putty in her hands, which surprises me because Sophie doesn’t seem like a flirty girl, but I guess it’s cool to give this guy some props for helping us.
“What do you guys like to listen to?”
“Anything’s fine,” Sophie answers for both of us.
“Then rock it is.” Nicholas switches the station and Nickelback is finishing How You Remind Me, which is definitely not rock enough for my taste and has me wishing I had my chants or my drums or could reach my Dramamine, because riding with a stranger makes me anxious. Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” comes on next and I lean back a little, my breathing settling.
“I hiked part of the trail, years ago,” Nicholas says.
“Really?”
“Yeah. There’s this guy in my hometown who’s an old trail legend. He and his wife used to hike the whole thing every year.”
The droning of their conversation and the sound of the highway make me sleepy. I lean my head against the window.
“Gary and Mary Lunsford. We always laughed at that. Gary and Mary.”
“They still hike?”
“I think he does. She died last year.”
We drive for a while with Rascal Flatts blaring in the background. I shove my tongue to the roof of my mouth, pressing the tip there. It makes me less nauseous. Country music is not my thing. It’s too twangy and without a reliable drum beat or guitar riff for me to attach my mind to, The motion of the truck makes me sick. I think about what Nicholas said about the old couple. There’s something weird about the story that makes me want to focus super hard on it. Either that or my car sickness is now making me paranoid in addition to queasy.
Saint Nick continues, “Gary had a strange trail name, which didn’t make sense to me, but trail names don’t always. Hey, do you have trail names?”
“They call me Ghost.” It surprises me that Sophie shares that with him, given how private she is.
He slaps the steering wheel, which makes me jump. “Rain Man. That’s what they called him.”
My head snaps to attention. “Rain Man?”
“He hiked the trail for years. Sometimes his wife came with him for parts of it. Once she did the entire thing with him. But not usually. Then, apparently out of nowhere, she decided to hike alone last year. Got lost on the trail. They never did find her. Until it was too late.”
“Wow,” I say. Understatement of the year.
“Yeah. Gary searched and searched. We all did. It was almost about the same time last year as a matter of fact. The beginning of May, it was. May 5. There were all of those Cinco de Mayo parties. I was at one when I heard the news. Weird how time flies.”
For some reason, everything Nick says produces pictures in my mind. I hadn’t heard Rain Man’s wife’s story before, but now I imagine newspaper headlines. Photos of people on the mountain carrying someone in a stretcher. Mom is always telling me I have to start thinking about how other people would react to things. So now I try. Rain Man’s wife died a year ago, almost to this day. That means something. It has to. But what?
I think about how I feel it’s my fault that my dad died. Does Rain Man feel the same kind of guilt? I think of Rain Man giving away his wife’s things. Maybe that’s what you do, but I don’t see it. Not the way he’s doing it. It’s like he over-packed his pack to give away her trail things. That doesn’t make sense. Unless…
“Oh my God. Rain Man. We have to go back. Now. Can you get us to the trail?”
“Huh? Sure. I mean, I guess. I can drop you anywhere you want.”
“What’s going on?” Sophie asks.
“I have to go back.” I scramble through my pack, looking for my map, despite how dizzy reading in a moving car makes me. My eyes are blurry and the map shakes in my hand. Sophie puts her hand over mine.
“Why do we have to get back?”
“We just do.” I look to the side of the road for mile markers. “Where are we?” The disorientation that comes with riding in a truck, trying to read, and building panic makes it even harder to read the map.
“We’re about ten minutes from the Albert Mountain bypass. I can drop you there. That’s as close to the trail as I can get you by car.”
I stare at the map. Where would Rain Man be?
“Where did Rain Man’s wife disappear?” I ask.
“She went off trail. Got lost a few miles from it. Very sad.”
“But where?” I thrust the map toward him even though he can’t possibly look at it while driving.
Sophie intercepts the map. “Take it easy, Wild Thing.”
Nick scratches his head. “I think it was around…Sassafras Gap.”
“That’s like forty miles from here,” Sophie says.
“Four days,” I say mostly to myself.
Sophie folds the map. She looks at me. “I can’t hike that fast.”
“Seven days, then.”
“Dylan, we don’t have enough food for that.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Sophie sits, hands fisted, so I’m guessing she’s pissed. I have no idea why she’s pissed at me, but for once, I don’t care. I have to find Rain Man. This is not a want or an arbitrary fixation. This is a must. I recognized the pattern. This time I recognized the pattern. He spoke of his wife like he was still with her, said how much he missed her, and didn’t care that he was running out of food. He was giving away her things—and his own belongings.
Nick pulls into a parking lot where a bunch of people have gathered. “You guys sure about this?”
I’m already out of the truck. Sophie shoots me an annoyed look, so I double back. “Thanks, Nick,” I yell into the cab of the truck.
Sophie turns to him. “Thanks for everything.” Then she slides out. I catch her so she doesn’t land on her hurt ankle. She pulls away.
We watch as Nick drives away. She sits on a bench next to the path leading to the trail. “What are you thinking?”
“I think Rain Man is going to hurt himself. I have to stop him.”
Sophie looks at me like I’ve got two heads. “You don’t know that. You don’t even know him. You only know what you think you know.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” I put my hands to my head to block out the sounds of people around me. “It’s his movements. I’m looking at what he’s doing. It’s a pattern. He’s giving his things away.”
“His wife’s things. She’s dead. Maybe he doesn’t want them around anymore.”
“His things too.” I lift the hem of my pants to show her my socks and realize it doesn’t make as compelling an argument as I think it will. “He stayed in my bunk at Neels Gap. He said it would be the last time he slept in a bed.”
“He probably meant until he got back from the trail.”
“He didn’t. I knew it was weird the way he said it, but I was trying to get to you, so I let it go.”
“It doesn’t have to mean…”
“It does. I know.”
“Okay. So we call ahead. Anonymously. We put in a call and tell the police what we think.”
“They won’t listen.” I turn around. And around again. I realize I look like I’m losing it. I guess I am.
“Dylan, you’re scaring me.”
I’m scaring her. I’m. Scaring. Her. I force myself to stop. I face her. “You know how I came after you? How I knew something was wrong with you? That you needed help?”
She nods.
“It’s like that. But this time it’s Rain Man.”
Her eyes focus and she reaches into her pack. “Okay,” she says. She pulls out the map and opens it. “Okay. So we find Rain Man…” Sophie points to an area on the map. “We are here, right?”
“Right.”
“So we have to hike back to get to Rain Man, assuming you are even right about this.”
“I am.”
“I said assuming.” She points to Neels Gap on the map. “This is where your family is going to start looking for you. And here is where you think Rain Man is.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t see the problem? We are going to be hiking toward your family.” She points on the map, “There might be forest rangers at any of these points.” She bats at the map again.
“We’ll find a way.”
“Don’t you think the forest rangers would be looking for us in those places? Your cousin knows about me now too, so if they are looking for you, they’ll be looking for both of us. Neither of us can safely go into town now. You get that, right?”
I do. I’m still making mistakes. For all of her talk of “we,” I can’t drag Sophie through the woods with her foot like this. Not with people looking for us, because of me. I can’t make her chase after Rain Man.
“Me, they’ll be looking for me.” I throw my pack on the ground and rifle through it until I get to my wallet. “Here.” I hand her twenty dollars and my credit card. “Use this and go north. It’ll throw them off.”
She shakes her head. “They won’t let me use your credit card.”
“The code is 2625. Use it as a debit card. They won’t check ID that way.”
“You’ve thought of everything, huh?”
“There’s almost eight hundred dollars left on the card. You’ll be fine.”
“And what do I do when your family shows up, and I am arrested for stealing your card?”
I hadn’t thought of that. Damn. I am getting sloppy. I think of all of those phony missions with Emily. All those pretend capers. Those sure didn’t get me ready for real life on the run. Even the time I hid away in the city, I never screwed up like this. “Only use it in places where they don’t have cameras over the ATM. Withdraw a hundred dollars, and then give it to someone hiking north. Tell them it’s from a trail angel. So if they follow anyone, they’ll follow them.”
“Dylan, you can’t decide my choices for me.” Sophie says.
“On this, I do. I’m going without you. You won’t keep up. And I won’t have you getting found because of my family drama.”
“What makes you think I don’t want to be found? I told you my dad knows I’m here.”
I want to reach out and touch her face. I want to be all comforting like I’ve seen boyfriends do with their girlfriends in movies, and even like I’ve seen with my swim team buddies. I can’t do it, though. I can’t figure a way to touch Sophie without it feeling bad for her. So, I just look at her really seriously and sweetly.
“Come on, Sophie. Your pack is always light. You don’t have the right clothes. Or supplies. You know this trail, but you’re not ready to be here. If you don’t want to be found, you need to stay away from me. They are looking for me, and they won’t stop. I know my family.”
She looks down. Her face is tight looking, like she’s trying to be brave, but she’s failing.
“I know you’re going to be mad. I know you’re going to be pissed. But I’m going without you, Sophie. I’m going back to find Rain Man. And you can’t come with me.”
I don’t even look back when I leave her. It’s like when I left Emily a few days ago. I just keep walking.
Sophie shouts my name after me, my heartbeat drumming in my ears. I can’t listen to her or anyone who would deter me from this path. Rain Man’s movements tell me all I need to know. I’ve got to stop him. No matter if it’s stupid or not. No matter if Sophie’s pissed at me and I never see her again, or if I do and she refuses to deal with me. I have to do this. I can’t not do this.
It’s forty miles to where Rain Man’s wife died. If I hike more than ten miles a day, I can get there three days before the anniversary of his wife’s death. I’ve only got twenty dollars and a few rations of food, but I’m not going to let anything stop me. I can’t change the past. I can’t go back and tell Dad to get his heart checked. I can’t warn Mom that there’s something wrong with Dad’s heart, but I can do this. I can find Rain Man. I can help him, even if it costs me Sophie.
• • •
There’s only a few hours of light left, and I’m ahead of schedule, so I stop at Beech Gap and set up camp. I’m not going to night hike unless I need to. I go to the water source and refill my bottle. It’s sad to be collecting for one person. I’ve gotten used to having company, but I only think about that for a second or two, because I want to eat, set up camp, go to sleep, and get up early and go again. I lay in my tent, exhausted from the day of hiking and fighting with every single person whom I like or love on this earth. My eyes don’t even close. I stare at the ceiling of my tent. Listen to all of the bugs and the frogs and whatever is making noises. That’s when I remember I didn’t set up the bear bag.
I go outside and hoist my bag in the tree, thinking of Sophie, which is kind of constant these days. It is unsettling in and of itself, especially because I can’t even speak with Emily about it. Also because after how I acted, I may never see her again. My mind is a mess when I crawl back into my tent. I have to get some rest. Hiking with little to no sleep is pretty stupid. Although not as stupid as so many other things I’ve done lately.
• • •
I hear rustling outside of my tent and immediately think it’s a bear. I’ve got no phone and no real way to tell the time, but it’s pitch black out. Should I look and see what’s making the noise? Do bears scare as easily at night as they do during the day?
There’s more rustling and then a zip. Bears don’t use zippers. Or do they? I push open my tent door, and am grateful to the full moon and clear sky with stars that lights up my campsite. But I cannot believe what I see: Sophie is here, zipping up her tent.
All kinds of emotions swirl inside me. I need to sort them out before I blow, because blowing my top with this girl would not be okay. I know that much, at least.
She looks at me in a way that makes me think she’s mad, but that sort of pisses me off. She should understand why I did what I did. She should be reasonable. Still, her stare is annoyed, and she’s messing with her tent and limping really badly. I choose my first words carefully.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. Great.
She holds up her hand and turns her body away from me.
She lowers herself onto a log by her tent and grimaces.
“What time is it?” I ask.
She looks at me like she can’t believe I’d ask that. Like that is the stupidest thing to ask. Turns out she’s wrong. I’m just getting started. Apparently, I have a barrage of stupid things lined up to say to a person who is clearly exhausted and in a ton of pain.
I move closer to her. “I asked you to do one thing. One thing and you couldn’t even do that. ‘Take my card,’ I said. ‘Take the money. Hand the card to someone on the trail after you take out money. Use it and draw the authorities away from me.’ All you had to do was stay away and here you are.” I turn away, try to smack my brain into submission. At least that’s what I tell myself I’m doing as I hit myself in the head repeatedly.
“I didn’t ask for your money.”
I whirl back to face her. “I know you didn’t.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“That’s stupid. You need help. I mean obviously…” I point to her leg.
“I’ve been hiking long before I met you. I know what I’m doing. And you don’t have to be mean. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t have to follow your instructions like your assistant.”
I’m stunned. Her words dive-bomb my brain and freeze inside of me. A weak “What?” is all I can manage.
“I said, I’m not working for you, pal, and I can do what I like.” She rifles through her bag, even though I can tell she’s tired and hurting and should probably chill out, eat, and get some sleep. She takes out her wallet and holds out the Visa I gave her.
For some reason, her giving it back hurts like a kick in the stomach. I stand there dumbfounded and not able to function, because I don’t want her to do this so much that I can’t move. So she hops over to me and puts it in my hands. I stare at the card and consider how weird it is to be blown away by this simple action. Her returning my credit card shouldn’t feel so sucky, but it does because I know behind the action is a really pissed-off girl. No, scratch that. A really hurt girl. Because of me. Now my words have been tamed by the sea of regret they have to swim through to make it out of my mind and into my mouth.
Dad used to tell me that whenever I get really mad, I should try to go outside my body and look down on the scene like I’m making a film. From the outside of myself, it’s easier to see that being calm is the only way to fix a situation. So I try to do that. Try and fail, because the next thing I say is, “You are so infuriating. I can’t believe you did this.” My voice is calm, because I know I’m right. I am the king of right. Where’s my crown?
“This trail is about more than hiking and camping. It’s a way of life. You don’t even stop to look at the scenery. It’s a means to an end for you. What makes you think Rain Man would listen to someone like you anyway? You don’t take time to get to know people or love the things he loves. You take and take and dictate. You aren’t living.”
It’s not like I haven’t heard that before. A lot of people think I’m arrogant. But I’m right about things when most people are wrong. It’s not my fault I see clearly. And I hate when people act like it is. But accusing me of not living?
“Just because I don’t relish the lookouts and the mountains and the views doesn’t mean I don’t live. I live plenty. And besides, who are you to talk? You’re writing secret notes and burying them.”
Okay, obviously my mouth should have shut the eff up already, because I did not mean to say that last bit.
Her eyes get wide, and her mouth opens like she can’t believe I just said that. Then she covers her mouth, and her face looks like it’s collapsed. Like after you puke.
And then my stomach drops. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
“You’ve seen me.… How could you.…”
“It just happened. I saw you. I couldn’t help it. I only dug them up once…”
Her mouth drops open. She closes it and opens it again, until she looks like a guppy gasping for breath. “You what?”
“Okay, okay, it’s…” I’ve got nothing to say anymore. I’ve done it now. I’ve killed any chance I have with this girl. Obviously I am a danger to myself and others like that school counselor said.
She puts her head in her hand and starts to cry. Huge sobs. I think maybe I should talk to her, so I try to do that, but instead of being happy that I’m trying to make things right and comfort her, she starts throwing stuff at me. Pinecones. Rocks. Dirt. You name it. If God put it on the forest floor, I’m now dodging it.
I drop to the ground to take cover. Sure she’s going to bonk me over the head, but the moon is shining, and I’ve already scanned the area by her feet, grateful she threw most of the heavy stuff already.
“I’m not normal,” I say.
“Obviously.”
“I have issues.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and bends over like she’s doing a sitting version of the Cheerio stretch, the one where you lie on your back and try to touch your head with your toes. I have no problem reading that body language, but I guess she wants to make sure I pick up on her mood, because she answers me with a sniffly. “Clearly.”
“I know I do. I’m being serious, not flippant or sarcastic. I have problems, Sophie.”
“Go away and leave me alone. You can’t stop me from looking for Rain Man. So don’t try.”
She reaches down and grabs her ankle and for some reason, that small motion makes me feel so bad for her that I remember to make myself look down on the scene we’re in. When I do that, I see that how I feel about any of this doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s hurt. I’ve got to stop fighting with this girl. I’ve got to do what’s right. So I make my voice come out all soft and sweet. “You’re hurt, Sophie.”
“Don’t call me that. I am nothing to you, and you are nothing to me.”
That’s exactly the kind of verbal hand grenade that should inflict damage. But since I’m outside of my feelings now, since I’m busy worrying about her, I don’t let that get to me. I only care that Sophie is hurt and needs to rest. And for once, it’s my ability to distance myself from emotion that helps me do the right thing. So I say, “I understand that. I get it if you hate me. But your foot is hurt, and you need help.”
“I don’t need anything from you.”
“I know you don’t. But when’s the last time you ate anything?”
“Not your problem.”
“Look. I know you bury notes. I don’t know what they say, because when I dug them up, I couldn’t read them. I don’t even know why I did that, except I wanted to know more about you. And I don’t like getting to know new people, so in a totally messed up way, that means I care about you.”
“Great.”
“You’re changing me. Making me care about other people and making me listen more. You are making me behave better. Well, except for the digging up your secret notes thing. But in general, you are making me a more caring person, at least. And now I’m going to tell you something about me that no one knows. Not even Emily.”
“There’s nothing you can say that will change anything.”
“I killed my father.”
Her eyes go wide. She must think I shot him or bludgeoned him, and here we are in the forest, alone, and she’s hurt. I put my hands up like I’m surrendering. “No. I don’t mean it like that.” She relaxes a little, and that frees me to say, “He died of a heart attack, but it was my fault.”
“People always think stuff like that is their fault, and it never is.”
“Well, I have proof. And if you let me take care of you tonight, and hike with me tomorrow, I’ll tell you the whole story. Then we’ll each have a secret that no one else knows, okay?”
She’s still crying, and her shoulders are shaking a little. Mom used to cry like this when she was mad at Dad. She’d shake, and he’d tell her he was sorry and put his arm around her. I don’t think I can put my arm around Sophie, so I stay where I am and wait. Eventually her cries become sniffles. When the sniffles slow, I try again. “Sophie?”
She sniffles again and looks down at her hands. “Okay.”
“You are wet and cold, and I’m worried about you. I have rain pants that will be way too long on you, but we can cut them. I want you to wear them, okay?”
She wraps her arms around herself and shivers.
“And then I’m going to make you some coffee and some food. You need to get warm. You know how easy it is to get hypothermia out here.”
“It’s late.”
“What time?”
“Midnight.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve been going to sleep so early, this will be my first midnight meal in the forest.”
She smiles. “I love this time of night.”
Even though I want to spring into action, I force myself to look around and smile. It’s not even fake. I smile big. “It’s beautiful. It really is. It’s so quiet. And the stars are beautiful, when you can see past the trees, that is.”
She cranes her neck until she can see through the canopy. “Yeah. My dad knew all of the constellations and their names.”
I do also, but boasting isn’t going to help her feel better, so instead I say, “I’m going to get the pants from my tent, and then I’m going to start cooking. Okay?”
She nods.
“I’m sorry for everything, Sophie.”
She nods again.
I’m amazed how often I’ve said those two words lately, especially when it wasn’t already too late. And it makes me feel good that I can do it now when it matters. When it can actually help that person. Sophie in this case, but then maybe eventually Mom too.