Sarah, nearby, walked closer, putting her hand on her wife’s shoulder. “What’s up?”
Roz peered around the camp, frowning. “Where’s Jill?” When no one responded, Roz cursed under her breath and stormed off, calling Jill’s name. She returned a minute or two later, shaking her head.
“I saw her sitting on that log near the clearing where we found the bandanas. She didn’t respond when I called her name.”
Fiona and her friends shared a look. They knew this version of Jill—the childish, sulky one. No one could do anything about it until she decided she wasn’t upset anymore.
“It’s okay,” Carol said. “Just tell us. We’ll fill her in when she stops having a tantrum.”
Roz seemed as if she wanted to argue, but after a quick glance at the sky, she nodded. “Fine. We’ve wasted enough time as it is. First, I wanted to give you this.” She handed over a folded map. “You have a compass, right, Carol?”
“Yes.”
“Good, okay—that means I can keep mine. I put little notes in the map with landmarks to watch for. I’m also going to tie some flags as Fiona and I go. I’ve only got the one roll of flagging, so they’ll be pretty far apart, but I’ve also tried to draw the trail on there as well as I can. Carol, I know you said you’re pretty good with a compass, so if you have to leave camp, you should be able to help the others follow it if you go slowly enough.”
How that would physically work with Carol’s injury was apparently not something anyone wanted to talk about, so no one brought it up.
“Is this the only map?” Sarah asked.
Roz nodded and sighed. “We had five of them. The guys had the others. I was planning to give all of you a copy, but I didn’t get a chance before…everything happened.”
“But what will the two of you use?” Carol asked.
“I think we’ll be okay. We’re going back over old ground. The trail here was fine.”
“But what if it isn’t?” Sarah asked. “What if something’s changed? Or what if you see something and need to avoid it?”
Roz blew a curl of sweaty hair off her face. “We’ll have to cross that bridge if we come to it. We can always follow the water if we need to. And I know these woods well enough to navigate off-trail. Regardless, I’m not leaving you guys here without a map. I know I could find my way out eventually, no matter what, but you guys would be high and dry without some guidance.”
Again, no one brought up the obvious: how could they possibly even try to make it back with Carol in her present condition? The question hung in awkward silence in the air for several long seconds.
“When do you think you two’ll get back to the road?” Carol finally asked.
Roz shook her head. “No way to know. If we’re lucky, tomorrow afternoon, maybe late tomorrow morning. Again, if we’re incredibly lucky and nothing goes wrong. The sun sets late and rises early this time of year, and we’ll use all the daylight we have today. If we don’t see any cars on the road, there’s an emergency callbox maybe two miles back toward Highway 14. Search and Rescue might be able to bring a helicopter back here by tomorrow evening. That clearing over there is plenty big enough for one, or least big enough for them to lower a litter. I can tell them how to find you.”
They were quiet for a while. Carol, after glancing back at Sarah, finally spoke. “Okay. I guess my next question is this: how long should we wait for you to come back?”
Roz didn’t respond. She stared down at the ground, biting her lip. Of course Carol would be the one to ask this question. While everyone else was pretending everything was fine, Carol was the one living in real pain and danger. She was also the only person among them that hadn’t lost her calm. Despite everything, she was as level-headed as always—realistic, pragmatic.
“I want to know,” Carol added.
Roz looked up at the sky and down at the ground again, rubbing her mouth. After glancing at Sarah, she sighed and finally made eye contact with Carol. “Okay. Let’s see—it’s Monday now. The longest, and I mean the very longest, it would take us to reach the road is tomorrow evening. Say we’re too exhausted to keep going, and camp at the first campsite tomorrow, or even at the parking lot, that’s Wednesday morning for first contact with Search and Rescue, so they would be here in the helicopter either Wednesday afternoon or evening sometime. If they don’t approve a helicopter—I can’t imagine why, but let’s say they don’t—that would get them here on foot Thursday, at the earliest, or maybe Friday morning.”
From this answer, it was clear she had thought out several scenarios. Fiona was certain there were other possibilities she hadn’t mentioned, but her answer was detailed enough that she must have thought most of them through.
Carol stared down at her injured leg. Again, no one wanted to talk about what would happen next, but it was clearly weighing on her. After glancing at Fiona and Sarah, Roz walked over to the bear canisters a few feet away and touched the top of one, drawing everyone’s attention.
“With the two of us gone, the three of you have about two weeks’ worth of food—more if you ration it a little while you’re here in camp. Cut out a snack or two, have one light meal a day, and you could last more like eighteen days without much effort. You have two water filters with replacements, fuel for the stoves, and shelter. You’re in good shape.”
Everyone was quiet, anticipating the next question.
When she spoke, Carol’s voice was barely audible. “You still haven’t answered me. How long should we wait?”
Roz closed her eyes. The fatigue was clear on her face. She clearly didn’t want to be the person to make what could be a life-or-death decision.
“If it was me—”
“It’s not you,” Carol said. “It’s me. Tell me how long we should wait.” Her confidence was back. She sounded like herself again.
Roz’s expression was deadly serious. “Sunday at the very latest. Start heading back then if no one has come for you by Sunday morning. You and Jill will have to use a litter, Sarah. Aim for five miles a day, and you could get to the road in five or six days. I think you and Jill could manage that much with breaks. You’re both strong, healthy. It could be done, and you’d have plenty of food to make it all the way to the road. If you wait too much longer, you might run out before you get back.”
No one mentioned the obvious. If Roz and Fiona didn’t find help, if they were prevented somehow, or hurt or captured by whoever had done the same to the guys, who was to say that the others would make it? And who was to say that Sarah, Carol, and Jill would be safe waiting here? This was obviously a place these people had been before. What if whoever was doing this came back before Search and Rescue got here? They would be completely vulnerable.
They had all been thinking the same thing. But talking about the might s was unproductive. Even the idea that she and Roz might not make it back was too much for Fiona to cope with. They had a task to accomplish and worrying about something that might or might not happen wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Roz broke the tense silence. “Fiona, are you ready?”
“Yes. Just give me a second to get my boots on.”
“I’m going to go tell Jill we’re leaving. She might ignore me, but I feel like she should have a chance to…I don’t know.”
A chance to say good-bye, Fiona thought. She focused on her boots as Roz walked away, using the excuse to hide her anger. They’d been talking here for close to fifteen minutes, and Jill hadn’t bothered to check in. If anything, Fiona was glad she wasn’t here.
Roz was gone long enough that Fiona took the opportunity to check her daypack. It was much smaller and lighter than the one she’d carried here and earlier today, and when she peeked inside, she could see why. She saw several emergency ration bars and almost groaned. She’d eaten these before at an outdoor-supply trade show and hadn’t been able to choke down more than a bite or two. They were dense and dry—salty, bitter, and disgustingly sweet at the same time. However, they had an extraordinary shelf li
fe and packed a huge number of calories in a small size. They were often distributed at sites of natural disasters or famine, which was about the only time anyone would be grateful for them. The bars could be broken into four pieces, each with about 500 calories, as a meal replacement. There were five in her pack, or five days’ worth of calories. Roz had also packed a toilet set—an orange trowel, TP, and hand sanitizer—as well as her fleece jacket and hat, a clean pair of socks, a plastic, folded poncho, a tiny space blanket, a headlamp, and a hammock. The idea, after all, was for the two of them to move quickly, almost unhindered. With two liters of water inside the back bladder, this was the lightest she could travel.
Roz’s pack was heavier than hers and obviously fuller. Of course, Roz was bigger and taller overall, clearly stronger, so this wasn’t exactly a surprise. Still, Fiona couldn’t help but worry that she was unable to pull her own weight. Roz would have to work harder to have her along on this trip. Without Fiona, she could probably leave even more behind and move quicker, too.
Stop that, she told herself. Roz needed someone with her—that made her valuable on her own, regardless of the extra burden. Also, Roz was capable of making her own decisions and knowing what her own limits were. If she thought she could handle the heavier pack and basically speed walk for thirty miles with it on her back, then she could. Roz was not the kind of person to suffer for no reason. Maybe she could convince her to share some more of the load tomorrow.
Roz returned to camp then, and Fiona couldn’t help the little trill of excitement that ran through her at the sight of the taller woman. Even now, after all that had happened, she was gorgeous. More than her looks, her calm efficiency and assured confidence were comforting, calming. With her, things would always work out. She’d always have a plan of action.
She gave Fiona a quick grin. “Okay. Let’s get going. We have about six hours of full daylight left, maybe another half hour of twilight we can use, and I want all of it. If we push it, we might still make it to the first camp, or just shy of it. There’s a spot I know about five miles closer to us that would be fine for camp, but I still want to try to go all the way.”
They each grabbed a bladder of water and slipped it inside the pockets at the back of their packs. Roz was carrying the water filter with one replacement. In this heat they would have to filter more on almost every break. In several places, the stream was relatively far from the trail, so they’d have to be careful to fill up often enough not to run out.
After the last two days, the little daypack felt nearly weightless on her back. This was an illusion—she’d feel it soon enough—but she wondered now if this wasn’t the best way to backpack: as light as possible.
“What did Jill say?” Carol asked.
Roz shook her head. “Nothing. I gave her the brief version of our conversation, and I know she heard me, but she kept her back to me the whole time.”
Sarah shook her head, frowning. “I’ll go talk to her in a little while. Sorry she’s being such a shit.”
The four of them hugged good-bye, Fiona and Roz kneeling for Carol. As she and Roz started walking back toward home, she threw one last glance behind her at the two of them. Sarah was standing with her hand on wife’s shoulder, smiling and waving. Carol didn’t wave. She looked scared, terrified even, the easy confidence gone when she thought no one was watching.
Fiona wished she hadn’t seen her expression. The hope and reassurance she’d felt deflated, disappearing before she and Roz were even out of sight. Despite the heat, she felt chilled, the woods rising before her now menacing and dark.
Chapter Twelve
They’d been hiking long enough that, despite the small load Fiona was carrying, the daypack was starting to dig into her shoulders. Some of this came from the residual aches and pains caused by the heavier pack she’d carried yesterday. Still, Fiona also knew that most of her fatigue resulted from the simple fact that she’d barely slept or eaten in the last twenty-four hours. She was starting to shut down. She’d managed to shape up a little the last four months working out with Jill, but she was no superhero. Between the stress and the fatigue, she was reaching the end of her stamina.
If Roz felt anything like she did, she showed no sign of it. She’d kept the same brutal pace, some five or six yards ahead of her, rarely slowing or stopping. She walked shy of a trot, once or twice glancing back as Fiona fell a little too far behind, her stern expression enough to encourage Fiona without comment. She also caught up anytime Roz paused to tie a piece of bright-pink flagging. She placed each one at eye level on a low branch of a tree or a bush. As her supply was limited, she flagged only when the trail turned sharply to the left or right or in a place where it might not seem very logical to keep going straight. They had to hope that if the others eventually came this way, someone would be able to find the next flag if needed.
Fiona had been trying to search for signs of the trail all afternoon. Occasionally, the trees naturally parted in front of them, and the meandering nature of their path was easy to follow. Once or twice, she even saw the scuff mark of a boot or an animal on the ground, or a broken twig. Still, without Roz leading her, she’d have been lost. Hopefully, Carol could figure it out if she had to lead the others this way.
She shook her head, cursing herself. She shouldn’t think like this. That specific worry assumed that something would happen to her and Roz. If things worked out, the others would never need to try to follow this trail. They’d be rescued directly from their camp. She had to hold on to that idea or give up right now. Why keep going if she believed their efforts were in vain?
Snapping out of her reverie, she realized she’d fallen farther behind in her musings. Roz had stopped, hands on her hips, to wait for her. Fiona pushed herself a little and jogged to catch up, but Roz stayed where she was until she reached her.
“What’s up?” Fiona asked, almost wheezing.
“It’s about dinnertime, and I’m out of water. Let’s refill and take a food break. I’m pretty beat.”
Fiona had to look away to hide her nearly giddy relief. She turned a little and focused her gaze toward the sound of the water. It was very close here, almost loud, and she could see the lighter area through the trees where the water cut through the woods.
“Good idea.”
Roz started walking toward the sound of the water, and Fiona fell in behind her.
“It would be a good plan for me to check out our location, too,” Roz added. “I might be wrong, but I think we’re not as far as I hoped we’d be by now.”
“I thought you didn’t have a map.”
Roz glanced back and nodded. “I don’t. But I wrote down some of the information for myself so I could check in occasionally. It’s not perfect—far from it, but it was the best I could do freehand and without a lot of time. Also, with no clock, some of my calculations are guesswork, but I’ll have a better idea of where we are when I check the sun and my compass.”
When they reached the stream, the water was rushing by in tumbling, bright-white rapids, the flow strong enough that, as they stood there watching, a large stone, almost a small boulder, loosened and rolled into the current with a thunderous crash. The spray here was such that it was misting the air around them, so cool and refreshing Fiona closed her eyes and lifted her chin, soaking it in.
Roz touched her shoulder and motioned for her to follow—the water too loud to talk—and the two of them followed the bank downstream for a couple of minutes until they found a little standing pool. It was shaded here, and the bank had been eroded enough to make a little beach of sorts. The ground was soft and almost sandy, and they sat down next to each other, both shrugging out of their backpacks and simply sitting there motionless for several minutes. It was quieter here than upriver, but still loud enough that when Roz pulled the water filter out of her pack, Fiona could hardly hear the zipper as she opened it. She handed her the filter, and Fiona, sighing, got up onto her hands and knees and crawled over to the water. It took her a minute or two
to get the filter together and properly placed, and even longer to start pumping. Her earlier filtering heroics back in camp had stiffened the joints in her hands and wrists, and her scraped palms and the two tiny blisters on her index finger barked with pain as she pumped up and down.
When she finished, Roz had gotten their food supplies ready, such as they were. She’d broken off three of the 500 calorie sections of the emergency rations—one and a half for each of them. She gestured at Fiona’s pile and started eating part of her own. Roz grimaced at the taste, and Fiona couldn’t help but laugh—the sound startling them both.
Roz smiled. “They’re pretty bad.”
“The worst.” She had to speak louder than was natural, but she wasn’t shouting, either. The roiling water was far enough away that they could talk.
She moved back to the spot next to Roz and grabbed one of the beige ration sections. As she brought it close to her mouth, her lips and nose instinctively curled back and away from the smell as she remembered the taste. She shook her head, willed herself to keep going, and took a big bite. It was like chewing flavored sawdust. She had to put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from spitting it out. Finally, after nearly heaving, she managed to swallow her first bite.
Roz, who had been watching her, burst out laughing. “That good?” she asked.
Fiona closed her eyes and licked her lips. “Mmmm. Yummy. Tastes like I’m eating lemon-flavored mud.”
Roz laughed harder, rolling backward. Fiona started giggling with her, and before long the two of them were squealing with merriment. They laughed long enough that Fiona’s stomach muscles started to hurt, but just as one of them started to calm down, the other started again. They set each other off several times this way, until finally Roz gripped her arm with one strong hand and made a cutting motion with the other.
“Stop, stop. I can’t breathe.”
Fiona let out one last barking laugh and wiped her eyes. She forced herself to pick up the food section again, using gulps of the fresh, cold water to help herself choke it down. She managed one whole section before the thought of another bite made her stomach gurgle, and she carefully put the last chunk back into the little foil wrapper with the rest of the bar. The thought of eating nothing but this for the next day or two sobered her.
From the Woods Page 13