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.
Chapter Nine
Fiona walked toward camp, her legs and body stiff and wooden. She walked as if expecting a blow from behind, but she was too terrified to run. She could hear the others’ voices long before she saw them, and some dim part of her was aware of laughter and something like excitement in their tone. When the camp finally came into view, somehow Carol had been moved from her tent to a makeshift seat, a large log, her ankle propped up on a rock. Jill, Sarah, and Roz had also dragged over pieces of wood to sit on, and everyone was smiling at something. Jill spotted her first.
“Ah, there she is.” She didn’t sound happy.
“Back there,” Fiona managed, pointing vaguely behind her.
Jill must have seen something in her face, as she rushed forward, just in time to catch Fiona as her knees weakened and buckled.
“Jesus!” Jill said, grabbing her under her armpits.
Roz and Sarah joined them, and all three helped Fiona across the camp, lowering her gently onto a second log. Jill knelt next to her, meeting her eyes.
She put her hand on Fiona’s forehead and told the others, “She’s cold as ice.” She grabbed Fiona’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Fiona was shivering now, but she managed to raise a shaky hand and point back the way she’d come. Her teeth were chattering as she said, “Back there. On a tree in the clearing.”
All four of them looked that way and then at her.
“What? What is it?” Jill asked again.
Fiona shook her head, unable to say anything.
“Someone get her something hot to drink,” Roz said, pointing at the little stove. “There’s some coffee.”
Sarah came back with a steaming plastic mug. She knelt and placed it in Fiona’s hands, wrapping her fingers around it.
“Take a drink, honey,” Sarah said.
Fiona tried, but her trembling hand made some of the liquid slosh out. Sarah steadied her and helped her raise the cup to her lips. The warmth coursed through her at once, and Fiona closed her eyes, the pleasure intense despite the bitter flavor. Almost at once, she felt steadier, stronger, and when she opened her eyes, Sarah seemed relieved.
“Thank God. You were as white as a sheet.”
“I’m okay now,” Fiona said, her voice stronger than before. Her fear, so overwhelming less than a minute ago, felt tamped down, but she could sense it there, waiting to pounce.
Sarah took a deep breath, motioning for Fiona to do the same. She did, and on the second breath, the air was no longer hitching in her chest. They did this together a few times, the fear finally ebbing away again.
“Tell us what you saw,” Roz finally said.
Fiona pointed again. “Back there, in the clearing past the food, I saw a green bandana tied around the trunk of a tree.”
Everyone reacted as if slapped. Roz actually took a step backward, her eyebrows shooting up.
“What? Are you sure?”
Fiona nodded. “I’m sure. I got close enough to see it. It’s exactly like the ones the guys were wearing.”
Roz rubbed her mouth, staring down the trail. Her eyes were troubled, dark, and Fiona knew then that she was as scared as any of them. Her control and courage, which she’d managed to draw on all day yesterday, were slipping.
“I need to see it,” Roz finally said.
Fiona climbed to her feet, the world swaying, and Jill leapt forward, grabbing her arm. Fiona brushed her hands away, frowning. “I’m okay. I can walk.”
“You almost fainted—”
“I’m fine now. It’ll be faster if I show her.”
“Okay, but I’m coming, too.”
“No,” Roz said, surprising them both. “No more risks. We don’t know what’s back there. The fewer that go, the safer you’ll be. Jill, stay here with Sarah and Carol. We’ll be back soon.”
With a task to accomplish, Fiona felt more of her fear subside. She handed the mug of coffee to Jill and gestured for Roz to follow her. “Come on—let’s go.”
Everyone shared a look, and Jill gave Roz a quick nod of agreement. “Okay. But be careful.” Whether she meant Fiona or Roz, they both nodde
d.
Fiona walked back toward the clearing, her mind sharper than it had been since yesterday morning. Her previous terror—so overwhelming, so tremendous—had turned from a fear-choked fog into something else, something precise and clarifying. It seemed, as she walked, as if she could see and hear more distinctly now. Even her muscles and injuries, which had ached and groaned last night and this morning in a way she’d never felt before, seemed to have loosened. She felt agile now, almost quick, the sharp awareness in her head and body something like readiness.
They hit the edge of the clearing, and Fiona stepped over her previous seat on the fallen tree. Although it had been mere minutes since she sat there, smiling to herself, that version of herself seemed remote, removed, almost as if she’d never existed. She could hear Roz behind her, but she hadn’t waited or watched for her a single time since she’d started leading her this way. Part of her knew that if she allowed herself to stop or hesitate, this sharper, clearer fear inside her would turn into something like panic.
She paused a few feet from the tree with the bandana, and Roz walked up next to her, stopping to stare.
“Oh my God,” Roz whispered.
Roz was rubbing her mouth again, hard. Fiona touched her arm, and she jumped, her hand dropping back to her side.
“Sorry,” Fiona said.
“It’s okay. Just jumpy.”
Roz stepped forward and examined the bandana closely, her face pinched with confusion.
“There’s more than one,” she finally said.
“What?”
“There’s more than one bandana here. They’re tied together, like a rope.”
“Should we take them?”
Roz’s eyes flashed at her for a second, and then she nodded. She started working at the knot with her fingers but soon stopped to pull out her Leatherman. She flicked out a knife and cut at the fabric.
“Too tight.”
The bandanas loosened into her hands, one of them falling to the ground. She leant down to pick it up, holding both up for Fiona to see. They were quiet for several long seconds.
From the Woods Page 10