It happened so fast I can’t hardly put it together in my head. I’d gone as high as I was going to go. Then I tried to stand up, and my sweaty hands lost their grip. Next thing I’m on my belly, gripping the branch for dear life and struggling to catch my breath because the wind has been knocked out of me.
Close call. Way too close.
I wrap my arms and legs around the branch and close my eyes and tell myself to be calm. A bad thing almost happened, but it didn’t. Slowly the air comes back into my lungs, and my heart slows down to something like normal. Sweat drips from the end of my nose, splashing on the pine needles one branch below.
On the ground, at the base of the tree, Delphy shouts, “Sam! Are you okay? The whole tree shook! Sam! Sam!”
Takes a while to gather enough strength to reply. “I’m okay! Just slipped is all!”
Delphy isn’t visible—too many branches in the way—but I can picture her expression as she shouts up, “You better not fall, Sam! If you fall, I’ll kill you, understand? Promise me you won’t fall!”
“I promise!”
“Come down! Please?”
Probably I’d be as worried if she was up the tree and I was on the ground. But there’s no way I’m coming back down until I’ve seen whatever there is to see. So I gather my strength, and tell myself it will be okay as long as I’m super careful, and then very slowly I stand up, gripping the pine boughs to keep my balance.
Imagine your head is a periscope rising just above the treetops. One moment you’re blind, and then you can see for miles.
And, oh, what a sight!
I can’t wait to tell Delphy.
I won’t bore you with the climb down, other than to say it was about twice as hard as going up. Yes, I did slip a time or three, but never quite lost my grip, so that’s all that counts.
At the bottom, Delphy drops her stick and wraps both arms around me for a quick hug. “You made it. What if you got stuck? It’s not like I can call for a rescue.”
“I didn’t get stuck. But I did see the fire.”
“Close?”
“Not close at all. At least ten miles away, just barely visible along the horizon. Some of the smoke is blowing this direction, but the wind is settling down, so it’s not spreading fast. Best thing, there’s a lake or pond a few miles from here. I saw buildings, Delphy, a bunch of buildings! A big shingled main building and lots of little white cabins. I’m pretty sure it’s a summer camp!”
“Are you serious?” Her eyes are as big as Christmas morning.
“Which means there has to be a real road nearby, right? To supply the camp? It’s not like parents are going to hike through the woods to see their kids.”
“This is so cool.” The words catch in her throat. “You said it’s not far away?”
“Maybe four or five miles as the crow flies. Too far to risk getting lost again in the woods. We’ll have to follow the logging trail and hope it meets up with the real road. We might not make it before the sun goes down, but I’m a thousand percent sure this will be our last night without a roof over our heads.”
“A thousand percent?”
“More like a million percent. We’re almost there, Delphy, I promise.”
“You think the camp will have hot showers? And real food and phones?” she asks, and then adds, “Are there people there? Did you see cars?”
Eager to get going, I head for the Jeep. As usual, Delphy matches me stride for stride, loping along with a big smile on her face and her dark eyes shining. I’ve never seen her so happy. It makes her look sort of beautiful, in a dirt-smudged, spent-the-night-leaning-against-a-tree, coated-with-smoke kind of way.
“No, I didn’t see cars or people. They probably evacuated. But if it happened like at Camp Wabanaski, a lot of the food and water and maybe even fuel got left behind. The important thing, there has to be a road to get to the camp. A real road that leads to a bigger road that gets us to the highway. Phone chargers and hamburgers! Civilization!”
“Home, sweet home.” Delphy sits up straight, shoulders back, ready for anything. “I never knew what that meant, not really, but now I do.”
We drive down the logging trail. Our luck has turned and I’m feeling good about it.
What an idiot.