For Jon, descending the mountain was much easier than climbing it. He had ascended the south slope, which was steep and jagged, but on the downward climb had taken the northern slope, which turned into a semi-maintained trail at about the halfway point. He had to skirt the entire base of the mountain to get back to his meeting point with Harry.
The scenery was spectacular—the distant mountains, the dappled light on the orange and yellow leaves of the trees below, and the wonderful, clean smell of the autumn air. It was an exclamation point to his last three days and it made him wonder how he could ever work in an office. The outdoors made him feel so alive; only at times like this did he feel truly comfortable with himself.
At first, the trip down the mountain seemed to pass in slow motion. He was caught in a perfect moment of time—just his steps moving in rhythm, his lungs filling with fresh air, and his eyes drinking in the beautiful scenery. But after three days on short rations, his stomach let him know how hungry he was. As soon as he hooked up with Harry, he wanted to find a trucker’s diner and place a double order. After that, he would find someplace with a shower.
When he reached the meeting point, there was no trace of Harry. He checked the car first and saw that it was still mostly packed. Unease gnawed at him as he extended his search. Near the trout stream, he found Harry’s fishing rod lying on the ground, but no Harry.
He called out again and again and wandered around the hundred-yard area between the car and the trout stream. Finding no sign of Harry, he widened his circle, but stopped suddenly when he saw a set of tracks in the dirt. He squatted down to examine the tracks more closely and saw that the toes pointed toward the caves. Jon stood quickly and suppressed a sudden feeling of panic as he walked toward the largest cave, fumbling in his backpack for his flashlight. As soon as he reached the cave and flicked the light on, he saw Harry’s prostrate form on the floor, just a few feet away from a deadfall.
“Jesus!” he said loudly, but Harry did not respond.
Jon opened his canteen and dribbled water on Harry’s face. “Harry!” he said in a sharp voice, “Can you hear me?”
Still no response. Again, he tipped his canteen and poured the cool water onto Harry’s face. This time there was a reaction.
Harry coughed and opened his eyes. “What the hell’s going on?” he said.
For the first few moments, Harry shivered uncontrollably as if trying to shake a bone-chilling numbness out of his body. He struggled to pull his legs up under him and get to his feet. Jon bent to help him, and it was clear from the way his friend leaned on his arm that he would not have been able to stand without help.
Once he was standing, Jon held onto his arm as a safeguard, since the deadfall was right next to them. Harry stared down into the abyss. There was a puzzled expression on his face, a look that was completely uncharacteristic. He stepped back warily, still staring down into the pit.
“I fell down into that,” he said.
“You couldn’t have,” said Jon. “If you had, you wouldn’t be standing here now.”
Jon could see his friend struggling, trying to come to grips with what had happened.
“Try to remember the last thing that happened to you,” said Jon.
Harry leaned against his friend as he tried to recall.
“I tripped and nearly fell into that,” he said, as he pointed toward the deadfall. “I must have landed awkwardly and banged my head. How long have I been unconscious?”
When Jon told him it had been three days, he shook his head in disbelief. “Three days,” he echoed. “Three fucking days!”
They backed away from the deadfall and, when they were clear of it, they turned and walked toward the daylight. The farther they got from the cave, the better Harry seemed. Walking in the late afternoon sun warmed and revived him. Jon watched him become steadier with each step, and a bizarrely euphoric expression broke over Harry’s face.
“It’s almost like I’ve been drugged,” he said aloud before stopping in his tracks. “I can remember someone sticking me with a really long hypodermic needle.”
Still holding his arm, Jon looked at him sympathetically. “A blow to the head can do funny things to your mind.”
“But it seems so real to me.”
“We’ve got to get you to a hospital right away,” Jon said.
“I don’t need that,” said Harry as he drew away from his friend. “I’m okay.”
“I’m serious, you could have a head injury. You don’t want to take any chances.”
“I’m not taking any chances,” said Harry, his voice hardening. “I know I’m okay.”
Harry rubbed his hands together involuntarily as they walked to the car. There was something sticky on them—a thin film of something greenish. He brought his fingers to his face and sniffed, then recoiled. “Alcohol,” he muttered.
“I’m going to wash up,” he said, as he moved away from Jon and toward the creek.
Meanwhile, Jon observed his friend. Harry’s stride was steady and his balance was good. Maybe he was right and he didn’t need a doctor. But the more Jon thought about it, the more he decided to press the issue. After all, the guy was knocked unconscious and exposed to the chill of the cave for three days straight.
During the first twenty miles of their ride home they argued, but Harry refused to let Jon take him to a hospital. Finally, Jon gave up in exasperation. The word “stubborn” might have been coined for Harry.
“Okay, if you want to go through life with a head injury, that’s your business,” Jon finally said in disgust.
After driving another ten miles in silence, Jon suddenly pulled off the road and parked at a trucker’s diner. “I’ve got to get something to eat,” he said. “I’m absolutely starving.”
Harry made no move to join him. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
“You’re not hungry?” Jon said in amazement. “Three days without eating and you’re not hungry?”
In response, Harry pulled his cap down over his eyes and put his seat back. “Take your time,” he said. “I’m going to take a little nap.”
“Harry, you might have a concussion. Taking a nap might kill you.”
“Will you please fuck off!” Harry shouted as he repositioned himself. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m perfectly okay.”
Jon thought about arguing more, but the expression in Harry’s eyes told him he’d better not. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him.
When Jon returned from the diner forty-five minutes later, Harry was sound asleep. He remained asleep for three and a half hours, the rest of their trip back home. Jon had to shake him awake after he pulled into Harry’s driveway.
“I’m dead tired,” Harry said as he got out of the car. “Can I just leave my gear in your car until tomorrow?”
Harry didn’t wait for a reply. He walked toward the door of his house like a zombie.
“Goddamn it!” said Jon as he watched him wander inside. “I should have taken him to the hospital.”