“Why are they doing this?” Fiona finally asked.
Roz frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why are they trying to scare us like this? Why did they put those traps in the camp?”
Roz continued to frown at her, and then her expression cleared. “Oh, I see what you mean. You think the guys are doing all this?” She looked down at the bandanas in her hands. “That’s one version of events, I suppose.”
“Who else could it be?”
Roz met her eyes. “We heard someone else, remember? The first day. And I thought I heard something yesterday, too. That wasn’t the guys the first day, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t them yesterday, either.”
“Who, then? A stranger?”
Roz nodded. “I mean, there’s no way to know, but it would explain a lot.”
“How so?”
Roz stared into the woods before responding. “The guys were scared, too. That afternoon, and that first night, when we saw the marks in the trees. They were really spooked. And now this.” She held up the bandanas. “Almost like…” She shook her head.
“So you think they didn’t just leave us yesterday?”
Roz shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re right—it could be them. In fact, that’s more likely, given that no one else has been back here in these woods for a long time. They know this place almost as well as I do. I’m the one that trained them.”
“But if it isn’t them…”
Roz nodded. “Exactly. If it isn’t them, then they’ve been, I don’t know, abducted or something. Maybe hurt.” She held up the bandanas. “And someone took these from them.”
“But the horses! Where are the horses?”
Roz shook her head. “I don’t have all the answers, Fiona. I’m in the dark here, just like you. But like I said, you’re right. They could be doing all of this.” She sighed. “I don’t want to think of them like that. They’re my friends as much as my colleagues. I just can’t imagine them doing something like this—like any of this.” She paused, rubbing her mouth once more. Her lips were getting swollen from the repeated gesture, but it was clearly unconscious on her end—a tic, maybe, that came with stress.
What bothered Fiona was the fact that there were only two bandanas. Counting Fred, who’d left the first night, there should be four, total, one for each of the guys. Roz was upset, obviously closer to breaking than she’d been when they first made it to camp yesterday. Still, the idea of the two missing bandanas niggled anxiously at the edge of Fiona’s consciousness as the two of them stood there. She’d have to think about it more and wait to talk to Roz about it later.
“Should we look around?” Fiona asked. “See if there’s something nearby? A footprint or something?”
Roz gestured helplessly at the woods around them. “Where would we even start? This is the peak of the growth season. See all that brush? We wouldn’t be able to see anything even if we tried—not unless they’d been incredibly careless.” She frowned. “And so far, that’s exactly what they’re not. I haven’t seen a single sign of another person. The traps and the marks in the trees, yes, but nothing else.”
“So what do you want to do?”
Roz shook her head. “I really don’t know. It’s not safe here for anyone right now. Leaving someone, anyone, behind, would be stupid. But what else can we do? Carol will never make it back to the road on that ankle.”
Fiona touched her arm again, this time meaning to offer some comfort. Roz didn’t flinch or react in any way, so she left her hand there, squeezing lightly.
“There’s nothing closer than the road? Nothing at all? Somewhere we could all go?”
Roz started to shake her head and then paused, confusion clouding her expression. “Actually, now that you mention it…”
“What?”
Roz looked as if she were trying to remember something, her brows knit and the corners of her mouth creased. Finally, she shook her head. “I can’t be sure, but there might be something nearby. I need to see the map again to check.”
They made their way together toward camp, careful, but one step slower than a jog. Roz still held the bandanas loosely together in one hand, almost as if she’d forgotten them. Once or twice they had to walk single file to fit on the trail, but they naturally fell in step next to each other the moment they could. Fiona felt something like hope blossom in her chest. With Roz seeming more like herself, things were better, and some of that crystalized fear was pushed down and away.
Sarah and Jill leapt up from their makeshift seats when they saw them. Carol blanched at the sight of the bandanas. There was no mistaking that color.
“Oh, God,” Jill said, almost whispering.
Roz glanced down at the bandanas before handing them to Fiona. “Wait here,” she said, and rushed across the camp to her tent.
“What is she doing?” Carol asked.
“She’s going to check the map,” Fiona answered, staring at the bandanas. Both were stiff in her hands, as if still encrusted with sweat. She made her way to one of the logs and sat down, setting the bandanas down on the ground near her feet. She didn’t want to touch them anymore. She rubbed her hand on her dirty pants, the sensation of the gritty, green cloth still haunting her palm.
“You guys have to leave me here,” Carol suddenly said.
Everyone stared at her, and Sarah laughed. “Don’t be silly. No one’s leaving anyone.”
Carol shook her head. “It’s not safe here. We can all see that.” She peered up at her wife. “Don’t you see? You have to get out of here. I’ll slow you down.” She pointed at the bandanas. “Two people are already dead, maybe more. I can’t…” Her voice wobbled. “I can’t let anyone hurt you, too.”
Sarah knelt next to her and pulled her into a rough hug. Carol started sobbing into her shoulder, the two of them shaking quietly as she cried.
Jill gestured for Fiona to follow her, and they walked a few yards away.
“Did you and Roz think of something?” Jill asked.
“Roz wasn’t sure, but she thinks there might be something closer—somewhere we could all go.” She glanced at the two crying women. “We can’t leave them. No one should stay here, especially alone.”
Roz approached them then, making a wide path around Carol and Sarah. She gestured for Jill and Fiona to join her a few feet away, where the leafy branch of an aspen had fallen to the ground. The branch was obviously new, the leaves still green and hardly wilting. It created a kind of surface, however, and Roz was able to lay her map down on it for all three of them to see.
“Here’s us,” she pointed, “and here’s where we started. Here’s Old Roach, the ghost town, and here,” she indicated a closer spot, “is the old Powell homestead. It’s outside of this forest to the east.”
“What’s there?” Jill asked.
“Not a lot. Some stonework left from an old cabin, and a few old plows and things like that.”
“So why would be go there?”
“Because…” Roz traced a finger along a thin red line, “there’s a trail here. A well-used trail this time of year.” The other end of it met a road to the northeast.
“So what would that get us?”
“A phone, maybe.”
Fiona frowned. “Would a phone even work out here? I mean, even if we find someone with one?”
Roz shrugged. “Maybe. My phone works sometimes when I have it, but I’ve definitely seen a lot that don’t. It depends on the carrier.”
“What if we don’t find anyone?” Jill asked. “You say it’s well-used, but that doesn’t mean we’re guaranteed to find anyone there. Especially on a weekday. We won’t get there ’til what, Wednesday morning? Tuesday night, if we’re lucky? It’s going to take a long time with Carol.”
“It’s just another option,” Roz said. Rather than angry, she sounded disappointed, whether in herself or in the fact that she’d been shot down, Fiona couldn’t know. Judging from this entire morning, Roz was perhaps one or two steps from giving up, and
she seemed to be grasping at straws.
“What are you guys talking about over there?” Carol called.
“I’ll go fill them in,” Jill said, walking away.
Fiona stayed with Roz, the two standing close enough that she could feel the heat from her arm. She squeezed her hand.
“It was a good idea,” she said, trying to break the awkward silence.
Roz squeezed back and then sighed. “No. Not really. Jill’s right. It might not work, and we can’t risk it right now. We need certainty. Any more mistakes and we could end up worse than we are now.”
“What are the distances again?”
“About forty to Old Roach, about twenty to the Powell homestead, and about thirty back to where we started with the trucks.”
“How long is the trail to the homestead from the road? If we didn’t see anyone at the homestead, I mean, and we had to hike all the way to the road.”
Roz bent down, examining the map. “I’ve walked the whole thing in one morning before. Can’t be more than six or seven miles one way.”
“So it might still be the fastest route to a road.”
“If it is, it would be only a three- or four-mile difference, maybe less, between that way and going back to where we started. If I get some paper, I can do the math, but I think that’s about right. Twenty-six, twenty-seven miles to the road through the homestead. And I wouldn’t be as sure of the route there, so it might take us longer, anyway.”
“Which one has the better trail? I mean in terms of elevation and hills and things like that?”
Roz examined the map again and shook her head. “The one to Powell might be a little flatter on today’s stretch, but tomorrow would be worse, for sure—uphill most of the way. You sort of walk down into that valley to the homestead from the road, if I remember right.”
“So that’s your answer,” Fiona said, lifting her hands. “Shaving off three or four miles isn’t enough to risk it. We can’t be sure we’ll see someone when at the homestead, so we have to assume we won’t, which means walking the whole way to the road.”
Roz’s expression cleared a little, and she nodded, obviously relieved. “You’re right. Thanks. I’m glad we thought it through. I wanted to make sure we weren’t leaving an option unexplored.”
“I get it. I really do. Let’s tell the others.”
She turned to leave, but Roz grabbed her hand, drawing her back around. Her expression was still strained, but some of that weariness seemed to have left her eyes.
“Thanks, Fiona. I mean it. I feel like…” She shook her head and laughed, weakly. “Like I’m losing my mind. I’m glad there’s a voice of reason around here.”
Surprised and pleased, it took Fiona a while to respond.
“You’re welcome.”
Chapter Ten
It was late morning by the time they were ready to leave. First, it had taken considerable time to get their gear organized. They needed to pack lightly, but still be safe enough to travel through the woods for three or possibly four days. The initial idea was that two people would carry their essential gear in two backpacks, while the others helped with Carol, switching roles throughout the day. Everything else would be left at camp to be retrieved later. They’d left most of the food hanging in the bear canisters, but everything else would be exposed to the elements and wildlife, so they needed to decide what was essential and what wasn’t.
As for Carol, they’d discussed a number of ways to carry her through the woods. Jill suggested constructing crutches or a walking stick, but no one knew how to do that effectively or well, especially as their tools were limited to two Swiss Army knives and Roz’s Leatherman. A litter, they decided, would be too hard to carry between two people, meaning those carrying the backpacks would be overburdened.
They finally settled on a travois, which was constructed using a large tarp secured to two wooden poles with bungee cords. Carol could sit in the little depression made by the tarp, almost like a seat. They used a fleece blanket as a kind of shoulder rest for the person dragging it. Only one person could drag it at a time, but, with practice and help, the others could switch with some ease. They all took turns trying to move her around in the travois in the safety of the campsite, and everyone but Fiona managed to move somewhat gracefully in a small circle without jarring her too badly. Fiona, however, couldn’t do it. While she could move the travois, in jerks and stops, any fair-sized branch or rock stopped her entirely. She simply wasn’t strong enough.
No one seemed upset with her, but it put more of burden on everyone else, as it meant she couldn’t take her turn later today. While the others made up a schedule for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, she excused herself, telling them she was going to check their gear one more time. She was doing that, but she also wanted to hide her shame, feeling as if she would burst into tears if anyone so much as looked at her. A lot of her feelings resulted from fatigue and stress, and the last thing she needed was for someone to call attention to that state, even if they were trying to make her feel better.
“Bet you wished you spent more time in the gym this spring,” Jill said, making Fiona jump. She’d snuck up behind and grinned when Fiona spun around.
Fiona frowned at her. “You think this is funny? Cause I don’t.”
Jill sighed. “Jeez, lady. I was only trying to make you feel better.”
“Well, it didn’t work. I feel like shit. Everyone else can do their part, and all I can do is watch.”
“There’s a lot of guilt floating around right now, Fiona. I’m guilty, Carol’s guilty, and now you feel guilty, too. I know this sounds like I’m just trying to make you feel better, but you have to let it go for now. We’ll have time for guilty later. Right now we need to get moving.” Jill touched her arm. “And you’re doing more than watching, Fiona. You’ll be carrying one of the backpacks. That’s something.” She smiled. “After yesterday, the last thing I want to do is carry that goddamn thing all day again. At least I’ll have breaks.”
Fiona turned around as quickly as she could, trying to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. Jill’s pity was almost worse than the shame she already felt.
“Hey,” Jill said behind her. When Fiona didn’t respond, she wrapped her arms around Fiona from behind and gave her a gentle squeeze, resting her chin on Fiona’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you want to help. No one blames you. You’re smaller than the rest of us—that’s all.”
Fiona’s arms were stiff at her side, but she nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry for getting upset. I know you’re trying to help. I feel useless. I’m…tired, and scared, and I want this to be over.”
Jill released her and then walked around to face her before digging her fingers into her shoulders. She stared into Fiona’s eyes for a long time before speaking.
“You listen to me now, Fiona. Are you listening?”
After a brief hesitation, she nodded.
“Good, because I want you to hear this. We are getting out of here. No one is going to die. We’re going to be okay.”
Tears were sliding down Fiona’s face, and the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. “How can you know? Any of us could—”
Jill dug her fingers in again, harder, almost painfully. “Because I won’t let it happen. From here on out, I’ve got our backs, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you or anyone else. I’m not going to fuck up again.”
For a moment, Fiona believed her. Despite Jill’s disheveled appearance, with her dirty face and clothing and her wild, unkempt hair, a clear determination burned in her eyes. She meant what she said and believed it wholly, and it was almost enough to go along with her, as usual. But Fiona also knew that she couldn’t always be trusted. Even when she believed things entirely, Jill wasn’t always right. If yesterday didn’t prove that, nothing did. Still, Fiona saw no point in challenging her now. Jill had said all of that at least as much for herself as for Fiona, possibly more.
She managed a weak smile. “Okay, Jill. I’l
l keep that in mind.”
Jill nodded and let go of her shoulders. She started to lean down to grab one of the packs and then stopped, grinning at her with a little mischief in her eyes. “Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Next year, I want you to plan our vacation. I think it’s time you had a turn to screw things up.”
Fiona couldn’t help but laugh, and they shared a quick hug. Despite everything, Jill was still her best friend. While her grandiose statements had to be accepted with some skepticism, her intentions were almost always good. Maybe believing her would make things better. She already felt better than before.
“Okay. I’ll remember you said that.”
By the time they rejoined the others, Carol was being lowered back into her travois. While the comfort level wasn’t great, she claimed that she wasn’t in pain as long as she could extend her injured ankle a little and rest it on something soft. What this meant in practice was that she had to be lowered backward into the divot that formed with the weight of her body, sitting down into the tarp, and then her injured ankle placed on top of a pile of fleece jackets they’d tied together into a kind of pillow that hung suspended between the two poles with rope. Fiona could see the strain on Carol’s face as she fought against the pain, but, once she was settled, some of it eased and she relaxed slightly, closing her eyes. Her face was sickly gray, her lips pulled inward against her teeth, but her hands were no longer clenched at her side. Finally, she leaned back a little, breathing heavily. They’d rested the poles of the travois against a tree to save the first carrier’s strength. Everyone waited, like Fiona, clearly recognizing that she was in considerable pain. Finally, she opened her eyes and smiled at them, tears sparkling in the sunshine.
“Better,” she said. “It hurt going down, like it did earlier, but it’s not so bad once I’m here. The pillow helps.”
“If it’s too much, hon, we can stay here while the others—” Sarah said.
“No. We’re getting out of here right now. I can’t stand another hour in this hellhole.”
Sarah nodded, clearly upset but not willing to argue with her in her condition. “Okay. But you tell us the second you need a break. The second. Can you do that for me?”
From the Woods Page 11