I’m pretty sure Sophie’s running a fever. She’s shivering, even with me wrapped up around her. I put my hand on her forehead. She feels pretty hot.
“Hey,” I shake her as she goes into full blown nightmare mode. “Hey, Soph. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
She wakes up and turns over. “Ahhh.”
“Your leg?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me see.”
I unzip the tent to let the light in. Sophie sits up and pulls her foot out of the sleeping bag, wincing. I scoot out of the tent to give her room and she pivots around, holding her calf.
Her foot is still really swollen and bruised.
“Can I touch it?”
“Just be careful.”
I gently lay my hand on her foot. It’s not hotter than the rest of her. “We should get you to a doctor.”
“After we find Rain Man.”
“You can’t hike like this.”
“You can help me.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, Sophie.”
“I’ve got to see Rain Man. I have to talk with him. I want to tell him…”
Sophie’s got that look that means there’s no way to talk her out of this. “I think your foot is too constrained in your boot. So maybe you wear a sock. I’ve got bigger ones than yours.”
“That’s a good idea. We have almost no food, so a bag of chips each and we can be on our way.” She pauses. “Except I gotta go…”
“I can help you out there and prop you up, sort of…and…” I’m gesturing all over the place, which makes her laugh. “Come on. Before I fireman carry you out to the woods.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Never dare a Taggart!” I flip her onto my back and she squeals. Then she starts beating on my back.
I put her down and she crawls away, retching.
“Oh my God, Soph. I’m sorry.”
I pat her on her back as she pukes. Then dry heaves. God, I’m an idiot.
When she’s done, I hand her my water bottle and a bag of chips. “You need to eat. The salt will make you feel better.”
She puts a chips in her mouth and chews slowly. My stomach growls.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” She holds out the bag.
“Maybe later.”
She doesn’t argue. Just drinks some water. Chokes a little, then drinks again.
Water pours down her chin and tiny pieces of chips coat her lips. I put my hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll take you easy this time.”
“No, I’ve got it.”
I pack up our stuff as she limps away. Then I make my own forest run. I listen for Sophie as she limps back to camp, and my gut falls when I see her. Face pale. Lips gray. She sees me and forces a smile. I smile back and give her my best stiff wave. There’s no way that Sophie should be hiking, but I’ve got no idea how to stop her.
• • •
It’s hot and muggy. and I’m amazed how much the weather can change in just a few weeks. Hunger gnaws at my insides and I feel like I could eat my fist. My caffeine depravation headache is a demonic heartbeat in my ears, which mixes with Sophie’s little cries as she keeps hiking.
“Give me your pack.”
She doesn’t argue. I’ve got mine on my back and strap hers across my stomach. She balances with that homemade crutch. Each step feels elongated, like an extra blip on a heart monitor. I try to hear the drums in my head. I replace Sophie’s little whimpers with the sounds of nature track, which neither of us can listen to because my cell battery is dead. It’s the only way to get through this.
Up the hill. Down again. The only way through is forward. Part of me wonders if I should deal with Sophie first, just march her into town and make her go to the hospital, then go after Rain Man.
We stop in front of the sign for Sassafras Gap, but Sophie shakes her head. “That’s not the right one. The one we need is in Georgia.”
I make Sophie drink some water and feed her the chips. Her mouth doesn’t move much, like it’s stiff or something, and I worry about what that means.
“We should stop,” I say. “It’s getting late.”
“No. We gotta get to the Georgia border at least.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just…” she starts to cry. “I think I can make it all the way if we make it there.”
I think about how I could stop her if I tried, but there’s no way I can think of. Sophie is like me in that way. Once she makes her mind up, there’s no deterring her.
“Okay. We’ll keep going. But we camp right after.”
She nods. I put her pack on the ground and roll it up as much as I can. Since we’re pretty much out of food, I can squish her pack in mine. I slide on my pack and then put my arm around her. “Hold on.”
“Okay.”
“We can do this.” I tell her this because she needs to hear it, and I need to say it. “Do you want to tell me about your mom?”
“She was always doing things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“It didn’t matter. Just things. Like cleaning or organizing or reading. She played the cello in an orchestra.”
“That’s pretty cool. Do you play?”
Sophie scoffs. “Nah. I was never very good at the cello. I play the piano a little.”
“Can you sing me one of your favorite pieces?”
Sophie starts humming and it seems familiar, but I don’t want to interrupt her to ask. My brain searches my vast musical inventory, and it lands on Bach’s Cello Suite no. 1, which would make sense.
We limp along, as she hums and I keep my eyes ahead of us. The air chills, and I know sundown is coming. My neck is sore from supporting Sophie, and my heart and my head are thumping, and my stomach is growling, then I start hallucinating the smells of cooking, the sound of people talking and laughing, and of fire crackling.
Except Sophie must hear it too. Her face brightens. “Trail magic!”
“Wild Thing!” comes a call.
At first I think it is Rain Man and I’m so fucking elated, but as we get closer, I notice the long-ass beards, much longer than my own trail scruff, and the goofy smiles.
“Gator!” I yell back. “We need help! She’s hurt.”
“Hey guys, come on…it’s Wild Thing and his friend is hurt.” Gator calls. Chairs empty and guys start coming toward us. I’ve never been so happy to see people in my life.
Sophie’s exhausted. I can tell by the way her body feels, limp and heavy. “Hey, Soph,” I whisper. “Hey. We’ve got help. We’re going to be okay.”
She doesn’t answer. Her body is draped over mine, all of it, and I wonder when she stopped participating. When she passed out. I hoist her body higher and lift her legs so I’m cradling her now. “It’s okay, Sophie. You’re going to be okay.”
She barely stirs, and my stomach bottoms out. Is it too late?